


Drop Everything Now

by parkkate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forced Proximity, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Creatures, Mild Angst, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Harry Potter, Pining, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sharing a Bed, accidental magic, pet niffler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24734242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkkate/pseuds/parkkate
Summary: After accidentally bonding himself to Malfoy, Harry finds himself in an utterly precarious situation...
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 79
Kudos: 746
Collections: HD Wireless 2020





	Drop Everything Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aceveria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceveria/gifts).



> Song: Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift
> 
> Dear aceveria,  
> you know how much I adore you! Picking your prompt was an absolute no-brainer. Writing for you is the biggest joy I could imagine. And then there's also the Taylor Swift thing :D   
> Thank you for our wonderful friendship, for always being there for me, for laughing with me, indulging me and being your awesome self! I love you! ❤️️
> 
> A million thanks to my amazing beta phoenix4dragon! Once again, you blew me away with your dedication, kindness and wisdom! I couldn't have done this without you! ❤️️  
> And many thanks to the fabulous mods!!

_Dear Harry,  
__How are you? I’m sorry it’s been a while since I last wrote. My training at the Ministry is very intense and so time consuming. I’m having a lot of fun, though. So does Ron. Auror training is perfect for him. But he misses you terribly, even though he’d never admit that to me. We both do. But he’s trying to be the strong one. I hope you’re doing well, Harry. How is working with Hagrid? I hope he doesn’t make you take care of the Blast-Ended Skrewts. As soon as things settle down a bit, Ron and I will come visit you. Oh, and Molly says Hi. She asked if you’re going to come spend the summer at the Burrow. I know it’s only March, but I guess she likes to plan ahead. Alright, I’ve got to go now. Please don’t be a stranger, Harry.  
__Lots of love,  
_ _Hermione_

Harry sighs into his tea as he puts down the letter. He must have read it twelve times now, but he still has no idea how he should reply. How is he doing? Funny, how such a simple question makes his stomach drop. Or maybe it’s not so much funny as it is tragic. If he’s being honest, this is exactly why he decided to help out Hagrid in the first place; to hide from the world, so he doesn’t need to talk to anybody. As much as he still dislikes the Blast-Ended Skrewts, at least they don’t ask questions and they don’t talk back. And now that Hagrid built him his own little cabin, he can really live in peace and quiet. This is exactly what he needs right now. 

Granted, pushing away his friends might not be the smartest idea. But he’s not pushing them away per se. He just needs some time to think, some time to figure things out. He’s not sure if he ever will, but this is the best he can do at the moment. And yet… it’s hard to forget the disappointment on Ron’s face when Harry told him he wasn’t going to join the Auror training with him. It felt like he was letting him down. Then again, it feels like he’s letting everyone down lately. 

He can’t stand the constant praise, being patted on the shoulder and congratulated for something that cost so many people their lives. Yes, he stopped Voldemort, but it wasn’t all his doing. He never would have succeeded without his friends and all the people who helped along the way. He’s not the hero people make him out to be. He doesn’t want to be. He never has. But Harry doubts people will understand that. There was an article in the Daily Prophet a few weeks ago, singing his praises for choosing to do something meaningful by offering his help to the school he saved from destruction. It honestly doesn’t matter what he does; he could go buy a new broom and the Prophet would find a way to put some kind of hero-spin on it. He’s so freaking tired of it.

“Harry! Are yeh ready to go?”

Harry’s mouth twitches as Hagrid continues to knock on his door. His enthusiasm will never cease to amaze him. 

“Coming!”

“Mornin’,” Hagrid beams. “Did yeh sleep alrigh’?”

“Fantastic, actually. Thank you for this, Hagrid,” Harry smiles, gesturing around the cabin. “I really appreciate it.”

“T’was no trouble. The least I could do.” 

Harry quietly chuckles at the blush on Hagrid’s cheeks. “So, where are we going first?”

“Let’s see how the Bowtruckles are doin’. After that, we can go feed the Thestrals.”

“Sounds good.” Harry waits for Hagrid to lead the way, but instead, he casts his eyes down to the ground, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Um, there’s… there’s somethin’ I’ve been meaning ter tell yeh, Harry.”

“What? What is it? Is it the unicorns? Are the fairies bothering them again?”

“No, no. It’s, err…” Hagrid reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a piece of parchment. “Got a letter from Olymp,” he mumbles, his cheeks turning even more pink. “She asked if I’d like ter visi’ her in France.”

“Oh? So… you two…?” Harry has no idea how to phrase that question.

“Yeah,” Hagrid smiles. “So I was thinkin’, since yeh’ve been doin’ so well…”

“Wait, you’re not going to leave me here by myself, are you?”

“Yeh won’ be by yerself. Got a whole forest to keep yeh company.”

Harry presses his lips together, feeling less than convinced. Can he do this without Hagrid?

“Not righ’ away,” Hagrid says. “In a couple o’ weeks.” He looks down at the parchment, his eyes softening. “Olymp is busy righ’ now. But she says she misses me.”

“How… sweet,” Harry says, unable to keep the awkwardness out of his voice. “Alright, I guess we have enough time for you to show me everything properly.”

“I already did,” Hagrid chortles. “Yer a natural, Harry. Don’ worry so much.”

Harry laughs in spite of himself and shakes his head. “Right, it’s only living creatures I’m supposed to take care of.”

“They mostly do it themselves,” Hagrid says. “An’ before yeh know it, yer the one who’s taken care o’.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” Hagrid winks.

* * *

Harry never thought he’d dread eating in the Great Hall this much. He sometimes sneaks into the kitchens and takes whatever the house-elves give him down to his cabin, but having lunch and dinner with everybody else is tricky to avoid. Most of all because Hagrid and Professor McGonagall seem to be on to him, giving him looks of concerns whenever he skips a meal. He just hates how everybody is still ogling him, like he’s some kind of zoo animal. Nobody talks to him. They just stare. 

The only ones who make this whole situation somewhat bearable are Ginny and Luna. And, to his own astonishment, a third person he never ever would have imagined to one day call his friend. Or at least somewhat of a friend. They’re keeping it secret for now. So the only people he socialises with in the open are Ginny and Luna. Harry is almost tempted to smile whenever Ginny sees someone staring at him and draws her wand. Her infamous Bat-Bogey Hex, or at least the threat of it, does keep the other students at bay.

“It’s a shame we get so much homework,” Luna says. “I’d love to accompany you more often, Harry.”

“Yeah, the unicorns are less skittish when you’re around. You could come on Saturday.”

“That would be lovely,” Luna beams. “Do you want to come, too?”

“Can’t,” Ginny says while digging into her mashed potatoes. “Quidditch practice.” 

Harry catches her giving him a quick glance. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to avoid talking about Quidditch around me.”

“I know. But it’s obvious how much you miss it.”

“I do,” he sighs. “But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, after practice, I have to help repair the greenhouses.”

“Didn’t you volunteer?” Harry grins.

Ginny makes a dismissive gesture and reaches for her pumpkin juice. “Well, that was before I knew who else would be there.”

“I think it’s nice he’s helping,” Luna says.

“Only because the Ministry ordered him to. It’s part of his punishment.”

“Wait, who are we talking about?” Harry asks.

Ginny raises an eyebrow at him. “Who do you think? Draco Malfoy, of course.”

“Oh.” Harry puts down his fork, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore. 

He thought about telling the others about Malfoy a million times. He’s pretty sure Luna would understand and give Malfoy a chance. He can’t exactly say the same for Ginny. Maybe he’s being unfair. But it’s delicate, this thing they have between them. Whatever it is. 

“Alright,” he says, “I’m going down to the lake, see if the merpeople need anything.”

“Since when do you speak Mermish?” Ginny snorts.

“We, err, kinda communicate with hands and feet”, he admits. “What? It works.”

Harry can’t help but smile at Ginny’s laughter and quickly hurries out of the Great Hall. He always feels stifled when he’s inside the castle. He wonders if it will be different once it’s completely restored, once the remains of the Battle are gone. Maybe it will never feel like it did before. Hogwarts is still his home, it always will be, but now, there are as many painful memories as there are happy ones. 

Funnily enough, he doesn’t feel that wary about the Forbidden Forest. Even though he technically died in there, it’s kind of a reminder that he was able to overcome the impossible. Plus, the Forest is so full of life, Harry developed new appreciation for it. It’s still a bit scary sometimes, but for the most part, it also feels like home now.

“Potter!”

Harry freezes. He’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“Off to brush some unicorn hair?”

Unable to help himself, Harry grins. “Jealous, Malfoy?”

“Excuse me?”

“You want me to brush your hair as well?”

“As if I’d let you of all people anywhere near my hair,” Malfoy sniffs. “Clearly, you’re the opposite of an expert when it comes to grooming.”

“Well, not everybody wants to spend two hours in front of a mirror, admiring themselves.”

“You would, if you looked like this,” Malfoy smirks, gesturing down his body.

“You’re so full of yourself,” Harry snorts.

Malfoy says nothing to that and for a second Harry thinks he’s going to leave, but he marches right past Harry and motions for him to catch up.

“Where are you really off to?”

“Just wanted to get out of the castle,” Harry admits.

Malfoy makes a small noise, indicating he understands.

Harry purses his lips as awkwardness washes over him. It’s still weird sometimes, talking to Malfoy without being at each other’s throats. 

“Even though I do envy you for not having to share a room with anyone,” he wrinkles his nose as they approach Harry’s hut, “I really don’t envy you for having to sleep in _that_.”

“It’s nice,” Harry shrugs. “And I don’t have to. I could have had a room in the castle, but I like this better.”

Malfoy shakes his head. “You’ve always had alarmingly horrid taste.”

“You want to come in for some tea?” Harry asks, ignoring what Malfoy just said to him.

“Even if I wanted to,” he makes another face, “I’ve got to go to Transfiguration.” He pauses and gives Harry a funny look. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back to class?”

“Yes. I promised to help Hagrid.”

“And that’s more important than your education?”

“Since when do you worry so much about my education?” Harry snorts.

“I don’t,” Malfoy says and smoothes down his robes. “Very well, then. See you around, Potter.”

Harry watches him leave, trying to ignore that weird feeling in his stomach. 

Will he ever get used to this? Will it ever not be awkward?

It was especially bad after Malfoy’s trial. It was so strange, how Malfoy walked up to him, head bowed, wringing his hands and mumbling something about being grateful to him. Harry had been so shocked, the only thing he had done was stare at Malfoy wordlessly. He didn’t expect Malfoy to seek him out after that. But he did. And they talked, sometimes for hours. About the war, about their nightmares. Sometimes they both tried very hard to keep the conversation light, but they’d always come back to the heavy stuff in the end. Still, it was a relief to get it all off his chest. And it seemed like Malfoy felt the same. It was weird and surprising to discover they had more in common than Harry thought. And now, confusing as it is, he almost looks forward to running into Malfoy, to talk to him and bicker with him. Wow. So much has changed.

Harry sighs, his hand on the door handle, when he hears someone approaching. His pulse inexplicably quickens at the thought of Malfoy changing his mind and coming back for some tea after all.

“Oh. Hagrid.” Harry smiles.

“About ter take a nap, were yeh?”

“I was just about to make some tea, but it can wait.”

“Good, ‘cause Professor Slughorn needs us.”

“He does?”

“He needs some Flobberworm mucus.”

“Oh no,” Harry murmurs, making a face. 

“It won’ take that long,” Hagrid says reassuringly and pats him on the shoulder. “Here, take these gloves.”

Harry gives Hagrid a tight smile and mentally curses Slughorn. If he needs Flobberworm mucus so badly, why doesn’t he get it himself? Well, not everything about being a gamekeeper can be great, Harry supposes. 

“Yeh’ve been very quiet lately,” Hagrid says as they walk past the greenhouses. “Not that that’s a bad thing,” he adds when Harry gives him a surprised look. “I’m just a bit worried about yeh, is all.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Harry says, trying to smile. “Everything’s fine. I guess I… just don’t have that much to talk about.”

“Are yeh sure?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.” 

Harry can’t remember the last time he said that and actually meant it. Maybe he should start putting more effort into the lie because Hagrid doesn’t look like he believes him. But, to Harry’s relief, he takes a flask out of his coat pocket and turns his attention to the Flobberworms.

“So, what now?” Harry asks, his face twisting in disgust.

“Yeh have to lift it.”

“Ugh.” 

With his eyes half closed, Harry stretches out one gloved hand and tries to grab one of the Flobberworms.

“This is disgusting,” he murmurs.

“Good, good, now hold it over the flask.”

Harry does, expecting the task to be nearly over, but…

“Why is there no mucus?”

Hagrid chuckles. “Yeh have ter tickle it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeh have ter tickle the Flobberworm. Best way ter extract the mucus.”

Harry looks at him in wild horror. Tickle the fucking Flobberworm?

“You’re joking, right?”

“Didn’ listen to me in class, did yeh?” Hagrid says in mock-chastisement. 

“Oh god,” Harry groans and nearly drops the Flobberworm. 

“Come on,” Hagrid says, shaking the flask, “we don’ have all day.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at him. “This will give me nightmares,” he murmurs before he moves his other hand to tickle the fucking Flobberworm.

The rest of the day turns out to be pretty uneventful, for which Harry is immensely grateful. There was just this one moment that made him a bit uncomfortable. When he and Hagrid left the greenhouses, he spotted Malfoy staring at him. He looked like he was about to say something, so Harry picked up his pace and fled the scene. He isn’t really sure why he did it. Maybe because there were just too many people around who would have seen them. He’s just not ready for people to lose their shit and start asking questions. Questions Harry doesn’t know the answers to himself.

He’s sure Ginny would ask something like “How can you forgive him? Have you forgotten everything he’s done?” 

Ron would probably say “You’re spending time with _Malfoy_? Did you take a blow to the head or something?”

Hermione would probably say nothing at first, trying to resolve her own issues with Malfoy first. Harry thinks she might be the first one to come around. After Luna.

Because Luna would probably say “I think it’s nice you two are trying to be friends. He must be so lonely with everyone avoiding him.”

That’s the funniest thing about this, Harry thinks. Everyone is avoiding Malfoy and Harry is trying to avoid everyone. Everyone except Malfoy. At least when they’re alone.

He’s so tired of everyone fawning over him, watching his every move and being nosy. He just wants to sit here, in front of his cabin with a cup of tea, look at the night sky and let the soft noises of the Forest soothe him. It needed a bit getting used to at first, finding the noises actually soothing. But now, Harry can’t think of anything more—

His head whips around when he hears a twig snap, either under the weight of a human or a pretty big creature. When he sees the silhouette of a slender boy with a pointy face, he relaxes and feels his muscles tense at the same time.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says.

“Expecting someone else?” Malfoy asks, his tone guarded.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour.”

“It’s not even eight.” Malfoy pauses and shuffles his feet. “You missed dinner. Again.”

“Wasn’t hungry,” Harry shrugs.

“Well, then I guess I’ll be taking the treacle tart back to—”

“You brought me treacle tart?” Harry blinks at him, his gaze darting down to the cloth in his hands.

“Well.” Malfoy stares down at his hands as well and slowly unfolds the cloth.

“That’s—Wow, that’s a lot of treacle tart. I’m not sure I can eat it all.”

Malfoy makes a weird little sound and looks up at the sky as though he’s trying to calm himself. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to look at Harry.

Oh. OH!

“Oh,” Harry says. “You wanted to share. Okay, yeah, sure. Here, sit down. I’ll get you a cup of tea.” 

Honestly, that was more of an excuse to get a few moments by himself to process the situation. Malfoy came down here. With treacle tart. That he wants to share with Harry. It’s a nice gesture. But it’s creeping Harry the fuck out. Yes, they might be friendly with each other, but this? This seems… like something real friends would do. Does Malfoy actually want that? Does Harry? 

He wills himself to act normal as he walks back out and hands Malfoy his tea. They drink it in silence and Harry awkwardly accepts the treacle tart Malfoy offers him. 

“Hmmmm, so good,” he murmurs after the first bite, to which he hears Malfoy snort. “Do you disagree?” 

“I don’t,” Malfoy says. “But there are far better sweets than this.”

“Ah, the ones your mother sends you?”

Malfoy shifts in his seat and something changes in his posture. Harry wonders if he’s struck a nerve and shouldn’t have said that. His mind kicks into overdrive, scrambling for something else to say.

“Just so you know,” Malfoy murmurs, “I think Blaise might be on to us.”

As much as Harry appreciates the change of subject, Malfoy’s words make him pause. Because he makes it sound like they’re sneaking around. Which, technically, is exactly what they’re doing.

“How come?” Harry asks, trying to keep his tone even.

“He asked who the treacle tart was for. And I don’t think he believed me when I said it was just for me.”

“Oh.” Harry bites the inside of his cheek. “Well. I mean… He won’t tell anyone, will he?”

Something flashes across Malfoy’s face. Something Harry can’t quite figure out.

“No, he won’t,” Malfoy says, his tone suddenly much sharper. “And if he does, I’ll hex him.”

Harry nods, wondering if he said something wrong. Again. Before he can stop himself, he asks, “How come Parkinson didn’t come back? You two always seemed… close.”

Malfoy looks down at his mug and it takes Harry a moment to realise his knuckles have turned white. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

After a moment of awful silence, he hears Malfoy say, “How come Granger and Weasley aren’t here?”

Harry exhales and briefly closes his eyes. Malfoy has always been good at paybacks.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry echoes.

“Very well, then.”

Harry blinks as Malfoy puts down his tea and gets up.

“Good night, Potter.”

Harry stares after him, feeling like he absolutely ruined Malfoy’s attempt at… whatever it was. He still ponders on it the next day as he makes his way to breakfast. The thought of running into Malfoy has his insides turning. What is he supposed to say to him? Should he apologise? But he didn’t do anything wrong! Did he? Ugh, this is such a confusing mess.

As he slows down, trying to figure out what to do next, he notices something small and black peeking through the grass. A Niffler, Harry realises.

“Hey, are you lost?” He crouches down and tries to stay still, so he won’t scare the Niffler. “Where are the others?”

The Niffler blinks and tentatively sniffs the air as though it’s trying to catch Harry’s scent to determine if he’s friend or foe. 

“I won’t hurt you,” Harry says and carefully stretches out his hand, palm turned upward.

The Niffler stiffens and before Harry can say another word, it dashes away. So much for being a natural with creatures.

“Oh, Harry, you found it!”

Harry whips around and is met with the sight of Luna beaming at him.

“Oh, hey Luna.”

“Did Professor Sprout already talk to you?”

“About what?”

“She said there’s a Niffler on the loose and it scared the Mandrakes. Apparently, the Niffler dug the poor things out of their pots.”

Harry blinks, wondering if he’s the one losing the plot or Luna.

“It—What?”

“Can you take care of it? Professor Sprout told me to ask you.”

“Oh, I—Yeah, sure.”

“Great. I can help you if you want.”

“That’s okay,” Harry smiles. “You have classes.”

“Well, if you need me, I’ll be studying in the library later with Ginny.”

“Thanks, Luna.”

“Good luck,” she smiles before skipping away, leaving Harry to wonder how she manages to always be so bright and chipper.

He spends the rest of the morning trying to come up with a plan. It’s not brilliant, but placing a few Galleons in front of one of the greenhouses will hopefully attract the loose Niffler. Surely, it will return to the scene of the crime. This might take hours, but that’s perfectly fine. Hagrid decided to go feed the Blast-Ended Skrewts, even though he’s still not sure what they like to eat. Harry isn’t really sorry he’s missing that. He’d rather hide near a greenhouse all day to try and catch a Niffler. And to avoid Malfoy. 

He can’t shake the feeling he somehow insulted Malfoy the night before. But he has been wondering about Malfoy’s friends. Zabini is the only one who came back. And while Harry really doesn’t have a problem with not having Parkinson around, he often got the impression that Malfoy might miss her. The thought always puts Harry in a foul mood. But who can blame him? After everything Parkinson did? And Harry still has a sneaking suspicion she fancies Malfoy. Not that that really matters. But it was always so disgusting to see her bat her lashes at him and cling to him like a fucking koala. Ugh. Yeah, Harry doesn’t miss her at all. But Malfoy apparently does. And even though Harry knows it’s stupid, he can’t help but wonder if Malfoy is trying to replace her, if that’s the reason why he’s trying to be friends with Harry. If that’s it, Malfoy is an idiot. 

Harry lets out a sigh and rubs the back of his neck. This is so tiring. When will this bloody Niffler show up and—

“Oh.”

Damn it, the Galleons are gone. How did he miss the Niffler? Was he really that lost in thought?

“Ugh!”

Great, now what? Bloody hell, he’s going to have to see the Skrewts after all, isn’t he? He needs Hagrid’s help.

“Bloody fantastic.”

But first, he’s going to get those gloves Hagrid gave him. Just in case he asks Harry to do something ridiculous again. 

As he makes his way to his cabin, he tries to drown out the noises wafting over from the Quidditch pitch. One of the teams must be practicing. He ducks his head and keeps his eyes on the ground. He pauses and frowns when he catches sight of a strange hole in the ground, right in front of his cabin. Has that always been there? He’s pretty sure he would have noticed it before. He slowly sinks down to his knees and narrows his eyes. It’s definitely too small to be a foxhole… but a Niffler would fit right in. It doesn’t make any sense, though. The Nifflers have their burrow deep in the Forest. 

“Only one way to find out,” Harry mutters and pulls his wand. “Accio Galleons!”

Harry yelps in surprise as several Galleons come shooting out of the hole and something furry hits him right in the face.

“Holy—” 

Unable to keep his balance, Harry tumbles backwards until he’s flat on his back with a Niffler sitting on his chest. 

“I can’t believe it worked,” he mumbles. He blinks at the Niffler and snorts when he sees it’s clutching two Galleons. 

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with the others?” 

The Niffler squeaks at him.

“Right.” Careful not to scare the Niffler, Harry slowly sits up. “You’d rather be here? By yourself?”

The Niffler cocks its head before it jumps off Harry, quickly collects all the Galleons, and vanishes into the burrow again.

Well, at least now he knows where it’s hiding. He’s fairly certain it’s the Niffler in question. But he can’t just sit here day and night to make sure it won’t disturb the Mandrakes again. Well, he’d really only have to know when the Niffler leaves its burrow. Yeah, he’d need some sort of Niffler-alarm. But how? There must be a spell, right? There’s a spell for everything.

Jumping to his feet, Harry hurries up to the castle, snorting under his breath because his first impulse is running to the library. Hermione must have rubbed off on him more than he realised. He doesn’t even know if there is such a thing as a Niffler-alarm, but surely somebody before him had to deal with a similar problem, right? 

Two hours and thirteen books later, however, Harry isn’t so sure anymore. These books are absolutely useless.

 _Maybe you’re looking for the wrong thing,_ imaginary-Hermione whispers in his ear. 

Harry grunts and presses his fingers against his temple. Probably. Researching Nifflers is getting him nowhere. The only thing he discovered so far is that he’s definitely not as fascinated by these little creatures as this Newt Scamander bloke. But what should he look for instead? He needs a spell that would tell him the Niffler’s whereabouts, what it’s doing, when it leaves its burrow… 

Harry looks over his shoulder and squints. Something tells him he’s on the right track. It’s worth a shot. 

Ignoring imaginary-Hermione’s voice in his head, who’s scolding him for not returning the books to their shelves, he darts out of the library and down to the greenhouses. 

“Professor Sprout!”

Several heads turn as Harry clears his throat. That probably sounded very dramatic. 

“Sorry. Carry on,” he says, inwardly groaning as he spots Malfoy in the far corner. Guilt washes over him, mixed with anger. Because… why should he feel guilty? Malfoy is the one who—

“My goodness, Potter! Did something happen?”

“Sorry, Professor. It’s about the loose Niffler.”

Professor Sprout sniffs. “Yes. Did you find it? The Mandrakes are still shaken up about it.”

“I did find it. And now I need your help.” He lowers his voice, suspecting Malfoy is trying to listen in. “I need permission to go to the Restricted Section.”

“Oh?”

“It’s nothing illegal.” _I think,_ Harry adds in his head. “I just had an idea.”

“And that involves a spell from the Restricted Section?” Professor Sprout looks sceptical.

“I promise I won’t do anything… um…” Something keeps him from saying stupid or reckless. Because it probably is. 

“Alright,” Professor Sprout sighs. “I trust your judgement. But I don’t think you need my permission. You’re not underage anymore.”

“Well, technically, I’m not a student here. And I have a feeling Madam Pince will insist.”

“You might be right,” Professor Sprout chuckles. “Irma loves her rules. I’ll be right back.”

Harry looks around, pointedly avoiding the corner where Malfoy is undoubtedly staring at him. He can almost feel his eyes on him. 

“Potter.”

Here we go.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to catch a Niffler,” Harry shrugs.

“And you need access to the Restricted Section for that?” Malfoy raises a disapproving eyebrow.

“I have it under control,” Harry says, hating how unconvincing he sounds.

“Fuck, Potter, this is—”

“Language, Mr Malfoy,” Professor Sprout says while handing Harry a piece of parchment.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry smiles, grateful he doesn’t have to spend another second with Malfoy. There’s only so much awkwardness a person can handle in one day.

As expected, Madam Pince doesn’t look convinced as she examines Professor Sprout’s note. There would have been no way she would have granted Harry access without it. 

“It’s important research,” Harry says, immediately regretting it when he sees her piercing look. With Madam Pince, it’s best to just shut up.

“Well, you did everything by the book,” she says, the corner of her mouth twitching.

Did… did she just make a joke?

“Haha, funny,” Harry laughs awkwardly. He presses his lips together when she gives him another stern look and shoves the parchment back at him.

“Thanks,” he mumbles and slowly turns away. He doesn’t want to seem too eager. That might be suspicious. 

He’s still not sure what he’s looking for, but his mind keeps going back to this one idea… If he could somehow manage to… maybe magically tie the Niffler to himself, he’d know what the little creature is up to. This might turn out to be a gigantic mistake, but it’s the best he can come up with right now.

“Lumos,” he whispers as he starts roaming the shelves. Merlin, there’s some twisted stuff in here. Maybe it’s a good thing after all that Madam Pince is so strict about it. 

Harry cocks his head, his eyes flicking from title to title until he spots something that makes him pause. He quickly grabs the book and flicks through it.

“Bond magic,” he murmurs. “Yeah, that might work.”

Not wanting Madam Pince to know what he’s planning, he grabs another few books that look fairly harmless.

“One week,” she reminds him as he scribbles down his name.

“Of course,” he smiles.

After a quick detour to the kitchens, Harry finds himself in front of the Niffler’s burrow once more. 

“Hey! Hey, are you in there?” Feeling a little stupid, he waits for any sign of the little creature. Nothing happens. “I’ve got lettuce,” he says in a sing-song voice, feeling even more stupid. What if it’s not even in there? What if it’s creating havoc again? 

Knowing better this time, Harry shields his face before he points his wand at the little hole in the ground and whispers, “Accio Galleons.”

Harry catches the squeaking Niffler mid-air with a smug smile.

“There you are.”

He crosses his legs and puts the Niffler between them. 

“Here, are you hungry?”

The Niffler sniffs at the lettuce and wrenches it from Harry’s hands. Harry can’t help but chuckle.

“There’s lots more where that came from. So stay here, you little monster, while I try to figure this out.” 

As the Niffler munches on the lettuce, Harry flicks through the book again, trying to take in as much as possible. Okay, so there are all kinds of different spells for all kinds of different purposes. But he’ll have to choose carefully. He definitely doesn’t need a spell that will make him feel everything the Niffler feels and vice versa. That would be a disaster. He just needs—

“Ah!” Harry pushes up his glasses with his index finger. “This spell will enable a bond between two people, which will prevent either one from distancing themselves more than an arm’s length. Hmmm… two people. Does that mean it won’t work on you?”

Harry quickly scans the page again, feeling satisfied when he doesn’t find any unwanted side effects. An arm’s length is a little closer than he’d hoped for, but as long as it does the trick… 

“Okay, are you ready?” Harry asks, rather pointlessly. He rolls his eyes at himself while grabbing his wand and clearing his throat. He quietly begins to murmur the incantation, which, according to the book, he’s supposed to say eight times. 

Pulse quickening, he murmurs it for a sixth time, seventh, and—

“Potter! What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

Harry jumps while trying to turn around which sends him flat on his arse. 

“Potter, what—” Malfoy raises his hands as though Harry is about to attack him. 

That’s when Harry realises he’s pointing his wand at him; his wand, which is spouting a mixture of light blue smoke and dark blue sparks.

“What the—” 

The sparks intensify while the smoke does something very strange; it curls around Malfoy’s waist, drawing him closer to Harry.

“Hey!”

Harry gulps as the smoke creates a weird shape between them. It almost looks like an eight. Before Harry can take all of that in, an explosion of dark blue sparks erupts from his wand between them, causing Malfoy to shield his eyes and Harry to look away. When he turns his head back, the smoke and the sparks are gone as if nothing ever happened.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Malfoy bellows. “You weren’t doing what I think you were doing, right?” 

“What are you even doing here, Malfoy?” Harry bellows back.

Malfoy’s lips are suddenly just a thin line and his cheeks look a little more rosy than usual.

“I’m making sure you aren’t doing something stupid!

“You have no idea what I was—Hey! Give that back!” Harry can feel the surge of sweat on his forehead as he watches Malfoy examine the book from the Restricted Section.

“Merlin, save us all,” he murmurs. “Are you insane, Potter?” His eyes flick to the Niffler. “There’s a loose Niffler and this is what you do?” He gives Harry an incredulous look. “Or are you actually that desperate and lonely? If so, this is a new low, even for you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Harry barks. That insult really stung.

“Do you even know what this spell does?”

“Of course I do! I read everything there is about—”

“I don’t think you did. Because then you’d know this spell is irreversible.”

Harry blinks. “What?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Malfoy shakes his head. “You’re such a dickhead. These types of spells are part of pure-blood marriage rituals.”

“Ex—Excuse me?”

“You really don’t know anything, Potter.” Malfoy snaps the book shut and pinches the bridge of his nose in an overly dramatic and very unnecessary manner. “To this day, nearly all pure-blood marriages are arranged. These spells are supposed to bring the bride and groom closer together, at all costs.”

That… sounds horrible. 

“Oh.” Harry shudders, his gaze wandering down to the Niffler. Oh god. But… Does that mean…?

He sets the Niffler down on the ground, heart pounding in his chest. It loses no time in trying to get away from Harry and into its burrow, only… it can’t. It looks like there’s an invisible shield the Niffler is trying to push against. Well. That was the effect he wanted to achieve, right? But…

Harry looks up and locks eyes with Malfoy. “Oh god.”

Instinctively, he tries to take a step back, horror and dread washing over him when he finds he can’t. It’s as though there’s a rope tied around his midriff, pulling him back towards Malfoy. 

“Oh god. Oh no. Oh fuck. FUCK!”

“What are you—” Malfoy frowns at him before realisation seems to hit him. “NO,” he barks as he, in turn, tries to move away from Harry. “POTTER!”

Harry flinches.

“THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!”

Harry agrees.  
  
“THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!”

“Malfoy, stop screaming and—”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU FUCKING IDIOT! YOU JUST BONDED US! YOU—” Malfoy is heaving, his face bright red. “DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT MEANS?”

Unfortunately, Harry has a pretty good idea. 

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

That would at least save him from this misery.

“Let’s, um, let’s not overreact,” Harry says, his voice shaky. “Let’s just go to Madam Pomfrey, or McGonagall and they’ll—”

“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” Malfoy doesn’t seem to be listening. “WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO NOW? UGH!”

Scooping up the Niffler in his arms, Harry ignores Malfoy’s blotchy face and walks past him. Or rather, he’s trying.

  
“Are you coming or what?” he snaps.

Malfoy does, but not without mumbling more insults and death-threats under his breath.

Well, at least _something’s_ back to normal.

* * *

“I hate this. I hate you. I hate everything.”

Harry presses his lips together and wills himself not to roll his eyes. When he got up this morning, he really didn’t think this day would end with a Niffler next to him and Malfoy sitting on the other side of his kitchen table, getting on his last nerve.

“Just shut up and drink your tea,” Harry murmurs.

“Fuck you, Potter! This is all your fault!”

While Harry can’t disagree, he’s getting really tired of hearing those words. He knows he fucked up. Big time. He’s glad Hermione isn’t here or he’d never hear the end of it. 

“I can’t believe you were actually stupid enough—”

Yeah, Malfoy complaining is definitely more than enough. Especially since it turns out he was right. The spell is irreversible. McGonagall was stunned to say the least. Her mouth had turned into a thin line and her nostrils were flared. Harry knows what that look means. Trouble. Detention. Luckily, since he isn’t technically a student, the latter wasn’t an option. But it still feels like McGonagall punished him. She told him he could no longer help Hagrid under these circumstances and he and Malfoy were to sort out this problem. Alone. Away from the other students. Shut up in Harry’s cabin. How they are supposed to do that, Harry has no idea. The only silver lining in this, he keeps telling himself, is that McGonagall hadn’t looked too worried. Angry, yes, but not desperate to find a solution. That’s something, he guesses. If McGonagall isn’t worried, there’s no need to panic. Hopefully.

“This is unacceptable,” Malfoy mutters for the umpteenth time.

“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” Harry sighs and leans back in his chair. His tea has gone cold and the biscuits have never looked less appealing.

“You’re such an idiot!”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t come down here,” Harry says with a frown. “Then, it would just be my mess.”

Malfoy purses his lips.

“What were you doing here?”

Malfoy gives a little huff and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Instead of answering, he stares at the wall behind Harry.

“Look, it’s been a really long day,” Harry sighs. He takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes. “Maybe we should just try to get some sleep and figure this out tomorrow.”

Malfoy clicks his tongue in disapproval but he doesn’t say anything.

Harry shakes his head, wondering why on earth this happened to him, and slowly gets up. He gently grabs the squeaking Niffler and holds it close to his chest.

“You coming?”

Malfoy blinks, still staring at the wall.

“Malfoy, we can’t go to bed if you keep sitting there.”

This seems to snap him out of his stupor. His mouth twitches and his head whirls around to the far corner. To Harry’s bed.

“You expect me to sleep—In this—In the same bed? With you?” While his tone is scandalised, his face tells Harry something else. He looks… Malfoy almost looks scared.

“I don’t see that we have any other option,” Harry says drily. He watches as even more colour drains from Malfoy’s already pale face.

“I—No. We—We can’t—”

“We have to.”

“No,” Malfoy insists. “We can just…” He looks around helplessly. “We can just sleep here.”

“In the chairs?” Harry can already feel the ache in his back just at the thought. “Malfoy.” He rubs at his eyes again. “The last thing we need is being tetchy because we couldn’t get enough sleep. Just get in the fucking bed.”

Malfoy looks like Harry just told him to drown himself. He can practically hear the wheels inside of Malfoy’s head turning, trying to think of another solution. Harry wishes there was one. The prospect of having to sleep next to Malfoy isn’t exactly a dream come true for him either. 

After what feels like minutes, Malfoy finally moves, the chair screeching against the wooden floor. He walks over to the bed, his movements rather stiff, with Harry on his heels. He reaches into his robes and produces his wand, mumbling a spell to transfigure his clothes. Harry rolls his eyes at the green silk pyjamas. Malfoy gives him an expectant look and Harry reluctantly sets down the Niffler on his bedside table. He summons one of his fluffiest towels and arranges it into a little nest.

“I hope this is okay,” he murmurs and carefully stretches out his hand to pet the Niffler. It gives another squeak and practically jumps into the nest. It seems comfortable enough.

Letting out a sigh, Harry reaches down and starts unbuttoning his jeans.

“What are you doing?” 

“Err, getting ready for bed?”

Oh god. Getting ready for bed usually also includes showering. Well, maybe they’ll just skip that tonight. 

“Why aren’t you using magic, Potter? Ugh, you’re not a Muggle.”

Harry ignores that comment and quickly steps out of his jeans. Usually he’d take off his shirt as well, preferring to sleep only in his underpants, but that seems very wrong under these circumstances.

“Done,” he says lamely.

Malfoy wrinkles his nose but crawls onto the bed without another word. He doesn’t even comment on the sheets. At least not verbally. The look of utter terror on his face speaks volumes. 

“Are we seriously sharing a pillow and a duvet?” Malfoy asks.

“Um. Hold on.” Harry turns, intending to walk over to his drawer, only to be yanked back to the bed and landing flat on his back with his head bumping against Malfoy’s knees. “Ow!”

“Idiot,” he hears Malfoy mumble, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.

Harry scowls at him before fumbling for his wand. “Accio pillow.” Harry snorts when it hits Malfoy right across the face.

“You did that on purpose!”

He’s not wrong.

“We have to share the duvet, though,” Harry says a bit sheepishly. “But I guess it’s big enough.”

Malfoy huffs and slams the pillow down on the mattress. When Harry lies down beside him, he’s already turned his back to him. Harry does the same, trying very hard to move without touching any part of Malfoy. God, that would be horrible. It’s then Harry realises he’s never shared a bed with anyone before. He’s slept in a dormitory for years, but nobody has ever been _in_ his bed. And of all the fantasies he’s had about someone lying beside him, maybe even curled up against him, he never pictured that person to be Malfoy. The universe really has a sick sense of humour. 

Willing himself to fall asleep, Harry tries to concentrate on his breathing. In and out. In and out. In and—Harry frowns. Malfoy’s breathing isn’t matching his. And in the silence of the room it’s fucking loud. And irritating. Ugh. Why can’t he just—

 _Calm down,_ Harry tells himself. _Just breathe. Relax. You’re tired. Soooo tired. You want to sleep. You need to sleep. You—_

Ugh. This isn’t working. 

Harry grinds his teeth, trying to resist the urge to turn around onto his back. This position is already getting uncomfortable, but he mustn’t move. It would be very unwise. God, why did he cast that spell? Why didn’t ‘bond magic’ ring more alarms in his head? In retrospect, going to the Restricted Section was the dumbest idea he ever had. He should have known it would get him into trouble. But it wouldn’t have been as bad if Malfoy hadn’t shown up. To some extent, it’s _his_ fault they’re in this mess. It hasn’t escaped Harry that Malfoy didn’t answer his question. Then again, he was probably just being nosy and trying to spy on Harry. That git.

Harry rolls his shoulders, willing himself to relax. He listens to Malfoy’s breathing once more, trying to mimic the slow and soft rhythm. He must already be asleep. Well, maybe now Harry can dare to move. At least just a little bit. He slowly wriggles himself into a more comfortable position but stops dead when he feels Malfoy move as well. And then—Oh god. And then—

Harry gulps. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid. His back is pressed against Malfoy’s, his warmth seeping into Harry. Fuck. This is not good. The worst part is, he finds himself unwilling to move away, even though he could; there’s enough room. But something about that contact, Malfoy’s warmth, feels soothing. In a horrible kind of way, obviously. It’s not like Harry is enjoying this. How could he? The last time he had this sort of contact, he had his arms around Ginny, both of them sitting on the floor, watching Ron and Hermione play chess. It’s obviously not the same. He was in love with Ginny. 

Harry frowns at that. Something Malfoy said earlier pops into his head, unbidden.

_“Are you actually that desperate and lonely?”_

Harry’s frown deepens. Is he? Desperate and lonely? Is that why his body is unwilling to move? It’s the last thing Harry wants to admit, but this… feels kinda nice. Oh god, he must be going bonkers. But Malfoy is asleep, unaware of Harry’s crisis. So there’s actually no harm, is there?

His mind keeps debating this, going back and forth, until he finally drifts off, unconsciously pressing himself closer to the body behind him.

* * *

Harry can’t remember the last time he felt this comfortable. And… safe. He can hear the birds chirping outside, he can feel the soft morning sun on his face, the light breeze coming through the window. The side of his face is pressed against something warm and soft, he can feel a heartbeat on his cheek and… arms, holding him in place. It’s like he’s being hugged. Everything is warm. He lets out a sigh, wishing this dream would never end. 

It’s funny, Harry thinks, how dreams sometimes show you things you never knew you wanted. He never realised the warmth of another human could be something he craved. He always feels awkward when somebody hugs him. He never knows where to put his hands, how much pressure to apply, how long you’re supposed to stay in that position. Some might say he’s overthinking it. But how can he not? Being hugged is still such a weird concept to him, even though Hermione has done it to him a thousand times. But it made him so much more aware of his feelings. How soothing it feels to bury his face in her curls, the awkwardness that washes over him when Ron pats him on the back while Harry’s face is squished against his chest, making Harry even more aware of their height-difference. The longing he feels for his parents when Molly pulls him close to her. The tingling in his stomach when Ginny’s arms curl around his waist, her head heavy on his shoulder. At least that’s what it used to feel like. He hasn’t hugged Ginny in a while. She was always the one who initiated it. It felt nice, but Harry never had the reflex to reach for her himself. It’s almost as though he’s waiting for other people to signal to him that it’s okay to touch them. 

Harry lets out another sigh, his lips stretching into a smile. He moves his head a little and jumps when his nose bumps against something. Unwilling, but unable to stop himself, he blinks open his eyes. Everything is blurry. And too bright.

“Ugh.”

He stretches his neck and tries to sit up a little, only to realise he can’t. Something twitches on his arm and slowly, oh so slowly, his mind seems to be catching up. He gazes around sleepily until he finds wide eyes staring at him. Oh. Oh god.

“Malfoy.” Harry feels himself go rigid before his mind plunges into panic mode. “Oh god, I—” He freezes when Malfoy moves his arms… to release him, Harry realises belatedly. 

“Stop freaking out,” Malfoy murmurs.

“Um.”

“You’re overthinking it.”

“What?”

Malfoy rubs at his eyes with an irritated frown. “This was bound to happen. Your bed is tiny.”

It’s not, Harry wants to protest. But he’s too stunned.

“Why aren’t you yelling at me?” he asks.

Malfoy peeks at him through his fingers. “Do you want me to yell at you?”

“Um. No?”

Malfoy shrugs, as though everything is settled. But it isn’t. How can it be? They woke up entangled with each other, practically every inch of their bodies touching. Malfoy was holding him for crying out loud!

“Why aren’t _you_ freaking out?” Harry challenges.

“Do you want me to freak out?”

Harry balls his hands into fists. What is Malfoy playing at?

“It’s no big deal, Potter. Get over it.”

“What?”

Malfoy sighs. “Believe me, this is the last thing I ever wanted to wake up to.” His left eyebrow twitches. “But it is what it is.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Yesterday you were planning on murdering me.”

Malfoy shrugs once more. “And today we’re going to figure out how to make this,” he gestures between them, “go away.”

“You’re that optimistic?” Harry asks, doubt ringing loudly in his voice.

“What’s the alternative? Another night of this?”

Harry shudders. He’s right. Malfoy is right. As much as Harry hates to admit it.

* * *

Holding a Niffler in his arms while leaning against his shower, trying not to listen to Malfoy scrubbing his skin, really isn’t how Harry wants to be spending his morning. He couldn’t even really enjoy his own shower, constantly glancing over his shoulder to check if Malfoy was breaking his promise and sneaking a peek at him. He didn’t. So Harry makes good on his promise and keeps his back to the shower, carefully petting the Niffler.

“No wonder your hair looks so atrocious,” Malfoy calls from under the stream. “This shampoo is positively ghastly.”

Harry just rolls his eyes.

“It doesn’t even smell like anything.”

“That’s why I like it.”

He hears Malfoy snort as he turns off the water. Harry goes stiff, knowing Malfoy is behind him, completely naked. This couldn’t get any more awkward. Malfoy seems to agree. He’s silent, for once, while he gets dressed. 

Breakfast is even more dreadful than usual, since Malfoy refuses to sit at the Gryffindor table and drags him to the other side of the Great Hall. Every single person seems to be staring at them and Harry can’t exactly blame them. What a pair they must make. Well, trio, if you count the Niffler. 

Trying to ignore Malfoy’s comments on his table manners, Harry jumps up as soon as he’s swallowed the last bit of his toast.

“Come on. Library. Now.”

“Who would have ever thought you’d be so eager to go to a place filled with books.”

Harry makes a face. “I bet they would make great murder weapons.”

“Please, Potter,” Malfoy drawls. “We both know you’re an unbearable softie. You wouldn’t even hurt a fairy.”

“What? Who wants to hurt fairies?”

“It’s an expression, Potter.” He sounds amused again, and Harry doesn’t know if he should be irritated or relieved. 

“I hope Madam Pince will let us in the Restricted Section,” he says. “I don’t have a note this time.”

That, as it turns out, is the least of their problems.

“No pets in the library, Potter.”

“Please, Madam Pince, this is an emergency!”

“I don’t care, Potter! That Niffler will cause havoc in here!”

“But—”

“End of discussion!”

“Bugger,” Harry mutters as they walk back out again. “What now?”

“You’re our great Saviour,” Malfoy says. “Now is your time to shine.”

“God, I really wish you would shut up.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

They both whirl around, the Niffler making a displeased sound in Harry’s hands, to find Luna smiling at them. Harry’s heart drops when he sees Ginny beside her, scowling at Malfoy.

“Oh, hey guys.”

“Who is this?” Luna asks and leans forward to take a closer look at the Niffler.

“It’s—Um. It’s a long story,” Harry sighs. “Oh, watch out!” He takes a step back as the Niffler tries to make a grab for Luna’s earrings. “Don’t do that!”

“It can’t help itself,” Malfoy drawls. 

“Since when are you two so chummy?” Ginny asks, her brows deeply furrowed.

“That’s a long story as well,” Harry says hastily. If Ginny is getting mad at them standing in front of the library together, Harry doesn’t want to think about what she’d do if she knew about their sleeping arrangements. Or how they woke up this morning. 

She raises an eyebrow, obviously not satisfied with his answer.

“We better go,” Harry says as the tension rises to an almost unbearable level.

“We,” Ginny echoes.

“He’s not your boyfriend anymore, Weasley,” Malfoy drawls. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business who—”

“Oh god, just shut up,” Harry hisses.

“I think it’s great you’re trying to be friends,” Luna chimes in. “You look much healthier, Draco.”

Harry blinks at that.

“More colour on your face, you know?”

There’s an awkward silence until Malfoy clears his throat.

“Thanks, Luna. I guess.”

“Come on, we have to go to class,” Ginny grumbles, grabbing Luna’s wrist.

“See you later, Harry! Bye, Draco!”

“Bye,” Harry mumbles, dumbstruck. He just stands there for a moment until he hears Malfoy sigh.

“What a great morning this is shaping up to be.”

Harry peers sideways at him. “What do we do now?”

“Well.” Malfoy rubs his temple. “I guess we don’t really need any books.”

“We don’t?”

“It’s a bond, Potter. One used before nuptials. The answer is painfully obvious, isn’t it?”

“It—” Harry swallows. “It is?”

“Dear Merlin.” Another sigh. “I really have to explain everything to you, don’t I?”

He motions for Harry to follow him, so he does. He only realises they’re going back to his cabin when they’re almost there.

“So, um. Are you going to explain now?”

“You still don’t get it?”

Harry doesn’t know what’s more irritating; Malfoy’s patronising tone or the fact that he, indeed, still doesn’t get it.

“There’s… a ritual.”

“A ritual?” That doesn’t sound too good.

“I read about it years ago.” Malfoy’s sombre tone isn’t really helping.

“What’s—” Harry swallows. “What’s the ritual?”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course I do! We need to make this bond go away!”

Malfoy squints at him, as though he’s trying to decide if Harry is being earnest. “Alright,” he finally says. “We’ll do it tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“We need moonlight.”

“What else do we need?”

“Our wands.”

“Nothing else?”

“No, that should do the trick.”

“What exactly do we have to do?”

“I’ll tell you when it’s time, Potter.”

That keeps Harry on edge all day. That and something else he just can’t seem to forget. 

“Are you friends with Luna?” he asks before he can stop himself.

“Pardon?” This seems to catch Malfoy off guard.

Harry pauses. “You called her Luna.”

Malfoy raises an eyebrow. “I was under the impression people prefer to be called by their name. And that _is_ her name, is it not?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You call everyone by their surname, though.”

“Well.” Malfoy smoothes out some imaginary crinkles in his robes. “It’s different with her,” he sniffs.

“Different,” Harry echoes, confused. “Different—” Oh. “—how?” His eyes widen, and Malfoy gives him a sceptical look when his lips stretch into a grin. “Different, huh?”

“What are you on about, Potter?”

Harry leans closer, examining Malfoy’s face. Yes, there’s no doubt. He’s blushing.

“You like her, don’t you?”

“What?” Malfoy splutters.

“Yes! That’s it! You like her!”

“Potter!”

“Oh my god, you like her!”

“Stop saying that!”

“But it’s true! You—”

“It’s not!”

“Sure,” Harry grins smugly. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not!”

“It’s a good look on you.”

He’s done it. He’s finally done it. He made Draco Malfoy speechless. Ha! This is amazing!

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Potter,” Malfoy says to his shoes. His cheeks are still flaming red, his mouth pinched into a hard line. He’s embarrassed. Awww.

“No need to be shy about it,” Harry sniggers. He even goes so far as elbowing Malfoy. Perhaps that was a bit much. At least Malfoy seems to think so. He grabs Harry’s arm, pulling him forward until their noses are almost touching. The Niffler in Harry’s arms makes a displeased sound; it must be getting crushed between them.

“I don’t like Luna,” Malfoy hisses right in Harry’s face. 

“Alright, alright, no need to—”

“There’s someone else, you idiot.”

“Oh?”

Malfoy blinks, releasing Harry instantly, and clears his throat. “Whatever. It’s none of your business. Obviously. That’s why we’ll never talk about this again. Ever.”

While he’s technically right, Harry can’t help his curiosity. And it’s definitely piqued. 

He tries to be discreet about ogling Malfoy while they sit down at Harry’s kitchen table. He tries to focus on the Niffler and the curious sounds it’s making while munching some berries. He summons a bowl of water, just to occupy his mind, and watches as the Niffler practically submerges its head into the bowl to drink.

“Careful,” he sniggers, grabbing the Niffler and tipping the bowl to give it better access to the water. “Do you think we should name it?”

Malfoy’s only answer is a snort.

“Hmmmm. Are you a boy or a girl?” 

He takes a closer look at the Niffler’s feet and spots the golden marks Hagrid told him about.

“Ah, girl, then.”

The Niffler makes a satisfied noise and Harry carefully picks her up.

“So,” he says, holding her out to Malfoy. “What does she look like to you?”

“A Niffler,” Malfoy says curtly.

Harry rolls his eyes and puts her down on the table between them. “Hmmm… maybe… err… Lettuce?”

“Potter, just because she likes lettuce, doesn’t mean you should name her that.”

“Then… maybe… Daisy?”

“Merlin, you are awful at this.”

“Then you come up with something!”

Malfoy peeks at the Niffler and slightly raises his chin. “She’s clearly a Penelope.”

“What?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Whatever,” Malfoy snaps, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Hmmm. Are you a Penelope?” Harry asks the Niffler. He smiles when she raises her paws and waves them at him. “Okay then, Penelope it is.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Malfoy relaxing and can’t help but think it’s a good thing he didn’t fight him on this. He assumes they need to work together for the ritual to work. He hopes there isn’t going to be any blood involved.

If only he knew then that it would be so much worse.

“We need to _what_?” he shrieks as they’re standing in front of his cabin, bathed in the forespoken moonlight.

“We need to stand with our backs to each other,” Malfoy repeats, “take our clothes off, make sure the moonlight hits us, and cast the spell together.”

“But—But—” Harry stares at him, his cheeks flaming as though a dragon just spit fire right into his face. “Are you sure about this? Where did you find this ritual?”

“We had a lot of books on these kinds of things at home.”

“So… This is—”

“It’s the only way, Potter,” Malfoy says.

“Why do we have to be naked, though?”

Malfoy sighs. “Because of the moonlight,” he says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It needs to be on your skin. Everywhere.”

“Merlin’s balls, this is insane!”

“Just turn around and get started.”

Harry does turn around, his gaze dropping down to Penelope who gives him a curious look. What the fuck. 

“You really sure about this, Malfoy?”

“I am.”

“This isn’t a prank?”

“I would hardly take my clothes off to prank you, Potter.”

Harry gulps when he hears Malfoy… do something behind him. Is he seriously taking off his clothes? Merlin! 

Not knowing what else to do, Harry takes off his shoes and his socks. His fingers hesitate on the hem of his shirt before he yanks it over his head.

“This is insane,” he murmurs once more as he starts to unbutton his trousers. He pushes them down, along with his pants, and kicks them aside. Penelope squeaks at him.

Great. Now he’s naked. In front of his cabin. With Malfoy behind him. Supposedly naked as well. Merlin’s balls. 

“Now what?” he asks.

“Now we cast the spell. But we have to do a dance as well.”

“A dance? You didn’t say anything about dancing!”

“Well, it’s an ancient ritual dance. All you have to do is move your hips in a circle and then hop on one leg.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Feeling utterly ridiculous, Harry does as he’s told. He can’t help but think the moon might be slightly offended by him basically waving his dick at it. But if it gets him out of this stupid bond…

“Wait, you haven’t told me the incantation yet,” Harry says while frantically hopping. “Malfoy?” Harry keeps hopping, wondering what the fuck Malfoy is doing. “Malfoy, what’s the—” He freezes. “Hold on, didn’t you say the spell was irreversible?” 

“Finally catching on, are you, Potter?” Malfoy wheezes. “This has got to be the best moment of my entire life.”

“What?” Harry glances over his shoulder and almost falls sideways when he sees Malfoy grinning at him. Fully clothed. And definitely not with his back turned to him. “Malfoy! What the fuck!” Instinctively, Harry grabs his trousers and holds them in front of him, completely missing the fact that Malfoy is currently staring at his backside.

“Merlin, you’re so gullible,” Malfoy laughs.

“This isn’t funny!”

“Oh, believe me, Potter, it is!”

Harry scowls at him and quickly pulls his clothes back on. He should have known. He fucking should have known. This is Malfoy! Malfoy, who is still laughing so hard, he’s almost rolling around on the ground. Huh. As embarrassed as Harry is, he has to admit, that is a very nice sound. One he hasn’t heard before. He only wishes Malfoy wouldn’t laugh _at_ him. 

“Ha ha,” Harry says dryly after his torso is finally covered again. He groans when he realises he put his shirt on backwards. “Bugger!”

That only makes Malfoy laugh even more. “Merlin, stop it! I can’t breathe!”

“I hope you suffocate,” Harry murmurs. He bends down to pat Penelope on the head, pointedly ignoring Malfoy.

“I should have brought a camera,” Malfoy chuckles.

“Now that you had a good laugh, would you mind going back to actually solving our problem?”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport, Potter. There is a solution. It will just take some time.”

“How much time?” Harry asks, dread washing over him.

“However long it will take for you to like me,” Malfoy says casually.

Harry stares at him. “Come again?”

“You really need me to explain?” Malfoy deadpans.

Oh. Oh! Oh no. Wait. Does that—Oh god. What the fuck! 

“Wait, define ‘like’,” Harry says. 

Malfoy opens his mouth to give a sharp reply no doubt, but is momentarily distracted by Penelope, who crawled over to him.

“Hey, get off me!”

Harry sniggers, watching as she quickly climbs on top of Malfoy’s head and starts grabbing at his hair.

“My hair isn’t a toy,” Malfoy screeches indignantly.

Harry chuckles. “I guess she’s attracted to it because it’s so shiny. Like gold.”

Malfoy’s eyes dart to his and Harry immediately regrets his poor choice of words. That was… stupid. 

Malfoy just stands there, staring at him open-mouthed, while Penelope yanks at his hair with a squeal. 

“Um, okay, I think that’s enough, Penny,” Harry mutters and leans over to extract her from Malfoy’s head.

“It’s Penelope,” Malfoy corrects him, but quickly looks away, his cheeks more rosy than usual.

Harry snorts, more amused than annoyed, trying to hold on to Penny as she tries to get out of his grip.

“Hey!”

She jumps out of Harry’s hands and lunges herself at Malfoy’s robes.

Malfoy huffs but gently takes her in his arms and cuddles her to his chest.

“She likes me better than you,” he says with a smug grin.

Harry says nothing to that, his mind inadvertently wandering back to what Malfoy just told him. Harry has to like him? Doesn’t he like him? Is it not enough? Ugh, this is bloody confusing. Also. Malfoy didn’t say anything about having to like Harry. Is that because Harry’s the one who cast the spell? Probably. Which brings him back to the question — who does Malfoy like? Harry can barely concentrate on anything else the rest of the night. He keeps peeking at Malfoy out of the corner of his eye, trying to picture him with… someone. Anyone. He finds that he can’t. No matter who he pictures him with, something seems to be off about it. Like… Malfoy doesn’t really fit with anyone. 

Bedtime rolls around much earlier than Harry would have preferred. It feels awkward, standing in front of the sink, brushing his teeth with Malfoy next to him. Well, the most awkward thing is undoubtedly taking a piss with Malfoy right behind him. Thank god for silencing charms. And it’s not like Malfoy hasn’t already had a good look at Harry’s arse. That tosser!

Penny hops into her little makeshift nest as soon as Malfoy sets her down on the bedside table. Harry waits until he’s on his side of the bed before he crawls onto the mattress himself and slips under the covers. They both lie there, stiff as a board, the silence only disrupted by the occasional hoot of an owl in the Forest.

“Merlin, I almost miss Zabini’s snoring,” Malfoy sighs. 

“Yeah, I kinda miss Ron’s too,” Harry says. He feels Malfoy shift. And then.

“Why didn’t he and Granger come back?”

Harry wants to point out that he already told him he doesn’t want to talk about it, but he’s the one who mentioned Ron.

“Um.” His heart sinks. “Well, they both went straight into training at the Ministry.” He leaves out the part about them being “war heroes” and the Ministry making an exception about their N.E.W.T.s. Just like they would have for Harry. He has a feeling Malfoy already figured that out.

“It’s a little weird without them here,” Harry continues, without even realising he’s still talking. “It’s not the same. But nothing’s the same anymore, so…”

Malfoy stays silent, but Harry somehow gets the feeling he agrees. He’s probably having just as hard a time as Harry. Right? Maybe not in the same ways, but he must be hurting. He’s probably missing Parkinson, possibly even feeling lonely. Something about that pulls at Harry’s heartstrings. Did he feel lonely growing up? Just like Harry did?

On impulse, Harry fumbles around until he finds Malfoy’s hand. He hesitates only for a second before he curls his fingers around it. It’s warmer than Harry expected. And his own fingers are more shaky than he anticipated. Damn. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel so brave anymore. Why did he do that? Why did he—

“Potter.” Malfoy sounds a little breathless. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Um.” Yeah, this was a stupid idea. “Comforting you?”

He hears Malfoy snort and something rustles… as though Malfoy is shaking his head. But he doesn’t pull his hand away. 

“And what exactly gave you the impression I needed comforting?”

“Um. Just, err… Just a feeling.” Harry’s heart beats faster, something warm unfurling in his chest. Malfoy is letting Harry hold his hand. This feels… meaningful. Somehow. More meaningful than Harry’s impulse to grab his hand in the first place.

“Ugh, gross,” Malfoy murmurs after a moment.

“What?”

“Your hand is clammy.”

With a jolt, Harry realises that it is. “It’s usually not,” he says hastily. He doesn’t know why he feels such a strong urge to point that out, as though he needs to defend himself. 

The room falls silent, and for a moment Harry thinks Malfoy has finally drifted off to sleep. But then.

“Why is it now?”

“What?” Harry’s heart gives a weird little stutter.

“Why is your hand getting clammy now?”

 _Yes, Harry,_ his brain unhelpfully presses, _why_ is _your hand getting clammy?_ Panic-mode kicks in yet again, and Harry finds himself at a complete loss. He has no idea what to say. Or do. Malfoy said it’s gross, he— _Hold on._ Harry frowns. _If he thinks it’s so gross, why hasn’t he pulled away?_ Yes, that’s an excellent question. Feeling more confident after this realisation, Harry takes a deep breath and says, 

“It’s just, um… It’s warm in here. You’re warm. It’s—” _—your fault_ , Harry almost says but stops himself at the last second. Why does his brain only supply him with such unhelpful things? What’s wrong with him?

“I’m warm,” Malfoy echoes. It almost sounds like a question and his voice sounds… dumbfounded. But that could be Harry’s imagination. He doesn’t know what to believe right now.

He wants to point out he isn’t forcing Malfoy to hold his hand and if it’s so gross, he shouldn’t, but… what if he actually lets go? Oh god. Harry inwardly groans. He’s afraid of Malfoy letting go of his hand. Something is really, really wrong with him for sure.

The fact that he wonders why Malfoy’s hand isn’t clammy only adds to that.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he murmurs, “Your hand isn’t clammy.” He freezes, mentally slapping himself for sounding so fucking disappointed.

“Do you—” Malfoy pauses. “Do you want it to be clammy?”

What kind of a stupid question is that? 

“No?” Harry all but squeaks. “Your hand is, um—” What? What exactly was he about to say? God, this is awful. 

He waits for another comment from Malfoy, maybe mocking him this time, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Malfoy’s breathing seems to slow down. But his hand in Harry’s doesn’t slacken. It’s still holding on tight. It makes Harry smile into the darkness. Malfoy can’t see him right now, so it’s okay. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean anything. He was only trying to make Malfoy feel better, is all.

* * *

Harry lies stock still, blinking against the morning sun, trying to make sense of Malfoy’s fingers, slowly moving back and forth on his shoulder. He’s been awake for a few minutes, trying not to panic while finding himself in Malfoy’s arms, his face snuggled against his neck and their legs entangled. Malfoy, it seems, has been awake for much longer. The only question is… what the hell is he doing? Harry doesn’t dare to move. Malfoy might stop whatever it is he’s doing. Harry doesn’t know what’s worse; the thought of the undoubtedly awkward confrontation he’s about to face or the fact that he doesn’t want to move out of Malfoy’s embrace. He must be going insane. That’s the only logical explanation. Or is it the bond? Is the bond making him feel these things? The book said nothing about emotions, though. Just about physical proximity. So… that must mean… this is all him. Just Harry and his — ugh — feelings.

Well, it’s only natural he’s confused. Right? He’s never been held the way Malfoy is holding him right now. His warmth is so soothing. And he smells quite nice. His fingers, though. His fingers make Harry nervous. The gentle caress of his shoulder feels… so intimate. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Harry flexes his own fingers, only to realise they’re splayed on Malfoy’s hip. Bugger! This might be too intimate. Still, Harry finds himself moving his fingers in the same manner Malfoy is caressing his shoulder. It prompts Malfoy to still and Harry hears him inhale sharply. Oh. Was it too much? 

Harry blinks when Malfoy pulls him closer and presses his cheek against Harry’s head. What the—

“Don’t move,” Malfoy says when Harry tries to pull his head away. 

“Um.”

“Please.”

Harry’s eyes widen. Did Malfoy just say ‘please’? Has he ever heard him say that?

“Just… give me this, okay? Just—” He feels Malfoy take a breath. “Just for another moment.”

Harry has no idea what Malfoy is talking about, but his strangled voice and the unmistakable sadness in it keep him from questioning or arguing.

“Okay,” he murmurs, and feels Malfoy relaxing against him. This is so bloody confusing. Why would Malfoy want this? Why would he want to hold Harry? 

Oh.

Has he never been held like this either? Doesn’t it matter to him that it’s Harry he’s holding?

They don’t talk about it as they go up to the castle for breakfast. They don’t talk about it while they let Penny roll around in the grass. They don’t talk about it when they come back to the cabin. They don’t talk about it while they drink their tea. They don’t talk about it when they go to bed. And they don’t talk about it the next morning. When it happens again. And again. And again. And again.

“Do you think we should talk about it?” Harry whispers to Penny while Malfoy is in the shower behind him. “It’s weird isn’t it?” Penny squeaks. “I just want to know what’s going on. This is driving me insane.”

“You’re overthinking it again, Potter,” Malfoy drawls, making Harry jump. 

He feels himself blush as he sees Malfoy in nothing but a towel, little glistening droplets of water running down his body. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles and quickly turns away. Leave it to him to embarrass himself when he isn’t even the one standing there practically naked. Well, he’s about to be. 

He showers in record time, his back tingling at the thought that Malfoy might sneak a peek. Why would he, though? Harry’s the one who keeps having weird thoughts and inappropriate — ugh — feelings. 

He buttons up his trousers and puts on the first shirt he finds. He grimaces at his stiff neck and his aching shoulders. He moves his head from side to side, feeling a bit better when he feels his bones cracking. 

“For fuck’s sake, Potter!”

Harry jumps, unsure of what he did this time. 

“Sit down,” Malfoy snaps and pushes him into one of the chairs.

Harry freezes when Malfoy is suddenly behind him, his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“What are you—”

Malfoy starts kneading his shoulders, his neck, with a huff.

“Oh!”

It feels heavenly. Harry closes his eyes and ever so slightly leans into the touch. Malfoy is good at this. If somebody had told him a few weeks ago, he would enjoy being massaged by Draco Malfoy — that Draco Malfoy would willingly massage him! — he would have laughed in that person’s face. It still seems a bit ridiculous. But… it also doesn’t. It’s just strange and unfamiliar to Harry to find himself relaxed around Malfoy. To not flinch away from his touch. To almost crave it. 

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles awkwardly when Malfoy is apparently finished. “Do you, um—” He turns around, feeling his heartbeat up to his throat. “Do you want me to do you?”

Malfoy flushes and quickly clears his throat. “No need,” he says curtly.

Oh. Harry has no idea why he feels disappointed by this. But he does. Maybe Malfoy doesn’t want Harry to touch him. But he doesn’t seem opposed to it when they’re lying in bed together. Maybe that’s different somehow? Harry can’t see how it’s any different, but Malfoy is a very complicated person. Whoever ends up with him will need nerves of steel.

Harry frowns. He still hasn’t figured out who Malfoy likes. He said there was somebody. So who is it? Once again, Harry tries picturing Malfoy with several different people. It doesn’t seem right. He truly doesn’t fit with anybody. Not like he does with Harry.

Harry stops dead and feels his heart skip a beat as though he just jumped over a cliff. 

_What?_

He shakes his head, trying to push the image of them snuggled up together in bed to the back of his mind. It’s harder than he anticipated. The feeling of Malfoy’s arms around him attacks him out of nowhere, drowning him in his own sea of weird and unbidden emotions. This is ridiculous. 

“What’s so funny?” Malfoy asks, and Harry realises he let out a snort.

“Um. Nothing,” he murmurs. “Nothing you’d understand.”

Instead of a snarky retort, Malfoy just rolls his eyes and keeps feeding Penny. They’ve fallen into this weird routine; the days are starting to blur together. And they still haven’t made any progress on the bond. At this point, Harry isn’t sure if he really wants to. He’s still freaked out by what Malfoy told him. Is he taking the piss again? Then again, it does make sense, doesn’t it? If this is really a spell used for—Oh god. He really doesn’t want to think about it. So he doesn’t. As best as he can. That, however, proves to be immensely difficult the next day, when he wakes up snuggled up to Malfoy yet again. He’s almost getting used to it now, and even though he doesn’t like to admit it, it does feel quite nice. Very nice, in fact. The thing that throws him off completely, though, is what Malfoy is wearing.

“I got cold, so I summoned one of your wretched jumpers,” Malfoy mumbles sleepily when Harry asks him about it. 

Something warm unfurls in his chest when Malfoy rubs at his eyes before he drapes his arm around Harry again. If he knew how tousled his hair is, he’d probably throw a fit. Harry thinks it’s almost endearing. Especially paired with that thing Malfoy is wearing.

“Molly Weasley made that for me,” Harry says quietly.

“Hmm-hmm.”

Did Malfoy even hear him? 

“It, um—It looks good on you.”

“Everything looks good on me,” Malfoy mumbles. 

Harry mentally shakes his head. Does Malfoy even realise what wearing his clothes is doing to Harry right now? Merlin! He decides not to comment on it, knowing they will end up arguing if he does. He doesn’t want to argue. He does, however, want to see more glimpses of that unguarded Malfoy.

That night, Harry asks him to sit at the fireplace in front of his cabin. He’s sick of staying inside, he’s sick of his stupid kitchen table, and maybe a little change of scenery will do them both good. Penny seems to like it. Then again, she only has eyes for the Galleon Malfoy gave her earlier, burying it in the ground only to dig it up again right after. It’s like she’s trying to play hide and seek with it.

Harry blinks at Malfoy when he steps outside wearing Harry’s jumper again. It really does suit him; the dark blue makes the colour of his eyes a bit softer. But it doesn’t explain why he chose to put it on again. 

Feeling heat rising to his cheeks, Harry quickly averts his eyes. It’s an exceptionally warm night for April, but Harry’s still grateful for the steaming cup of hot chocolate in his hands. He gently blows on it before taking a sip and leaning back to look at the stars.

“It’s so eerie out here,” Malfoy murmurs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the big, bad unicorns,” Harry chuckles.

“Tosser,” Malfoy snorts. His face turns serious again as he gazes into the fire. “Isn’t it weird, though? Being all alone out here?”

“I guess,” Harry murmurs. “But the castle is too loud these days.” He gasps. “Oh!”

“What?”

“I’m only realising now—” He bites his cheek. “I’m keeping you from your classes!”

Malfoy waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Whatever. I don’t need them anyway.”

“You don’t?”

“Everything I need is in here,” he says, tapping his index finger to his temple.

“You’re such a bighead,” Harry snorts.

“Of course _you_ wouldn’t understand,” Malfoy grins. “How easy life must be when your head is completely empty.” Before Harry can say anything, Malfoy’s eyes widen. “I didn’t mean ‘easy’ as in—Um—”

Taking in Malfoy’s almost panicked expression, he can’t help but burst out laughing. “Did you just make yourself speechless?”

The corner of Malfoy’s mouth twitches and his cheeks are tinged with a lovely shade of pink.

“I mean, I never particularly enjoyed schoolwork,” Harry says in an attempt to brighten the mood.

“Still, you didn’t have to go and become a hermit in the woods.”

“I think it’s nice here. And I don’t mind being alone.”

“Because nobody can leave you when you’re alone?”

Harry’s eyes widen. His head snaps back to Malfoy and finds him staring at Harry intently. That… took an unexpected turn. 

“I—” Harry has no idea what to say to that. He’s never looked at it that way. And yet, he feels caught. But, somehow, it feels like Malfoy’s being the vulnerable one here. Harry wonders what made him feel like it’s okay to open up all of a sudden.

“I know a thing or two about that,” Malfoy says, the bitterness ringing loudly in his voice. “It’s better to be miserable on your own, right? Then nobody can hurt you.”

This strikes Harry as incredibly sad. That’s not what he’s been doing. Is it? 

“Sometimes… Sometimes, everything just gets to be too much.”

Malfoy nods, his gaze wandering back to the fire. “How are Granger and Weasley?” 

Harry pauses. Why would he ask about them again? “I, err—”

“You still talk to them, right?”

“I do,” Harry says hastily. “It’s just, um, it’s been a while.”

“Because you’re not responding?” Malfoy guesses.

Harry looks down at his cup, shame washing over him.

“Yeah, I made that mistake, too,” Malfoy says.

“What?”

“I didn’t reply to any of Pansy’s messages, so she finally gave up.”

“Oh.” Harry’s heart sinks. He inevitably wonders if Hermione will give up at some point as well. 

“Don’t wait too long, Potter,” Malfoy says, and Harry marvels at how soft his voice sounds. “True friends will understand that you need time, but don’t wait too long.”

Harry blinks at him, wondering when Malfoy became so insightful. True friends. Is that what he and Malfoy have to become to break the bond? Ugh, no. He’s thinking about it again. Malfoy told him not to overthink it. Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. How can he not?

“Oh!” Harry jumps when something wet hits his hand. “What?” He looks at the sky, which was clear just a few minutes ago. 

“Come on, Penelope,” Malfoy says. “Let’s go inside.”

“Wait.” Without realising that he’s already grabbed Malfoy’s hand, he stands up and pulls him away from the fire.

“What?”

Harry smiles as he spreads his arms and lets the rain drip on his face.  
  
“You’re going to catch a cold, Potter.”

“We’re wizards,” Harry points out. 

“Which is why you could easily cast an umbrella charm.”

“That would defeat the purpose.”

“What purpose?”

“Come on,” Harry laughs and takes both of Malfoy’s hands. “When was the last time you went out into the rain?” He starts spinning them around, surprised Malfoy is letting him. The rain on his face is cool and tingles. It’s amazing. 

He’s still laughing when he looks back at Malfoy, who is eyeing him curiously with an unreadable expression. 

“Come on,” Harry says again. “Live a little.”

Malfoy’s expression still doesn’t change. He does open his mouth, but all that comes out is a hiccup.

“Oh!” Harry jumps and instinctively lets go of Malfoy’s hands when he sees white sparks explode in front of his eyes. “What was that?”

“Must be a, err, weird weather thing,” Malfoy says. 

“Are you sure?”

“Let’s go inside. I’m cold.”

Harry cocks his head but follows Malfoy inside, scooping up Penny on the way. She hastily stuffs the Galleon into her pouch, and Harry laughs.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal it.”

She sniffs at him, as though she doesn’t believe him.

“Shower. Now,” Malfoy barks, already taking off his jumper. Harry’s jumper.

“As you wish,” Harry murmurs.

Half an hour later, Penny is still playing with her Galleon while Harry and Malfoy both stare at the ceiling. 

“Do you miss her?” Harry asks before he can stop himself. “Parkinson, I mean.”

Malfoy stays silent, which Harry takes as a yes. Feeling much less weird and more comfortable about it now, he reaches for Malfoy’s hand under the duvet.

“Comforting me again?” Malfoy asks. He sounds almost amused.

“Is that okay?”

Malfoy hesitates. “I guess.”

“Good.” Harry smiles, feeling warmth spread in his chest. “Do you maybe, um, need more comforting?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well.” Harry swallows. “I—” Shutting off his brain for a moment, he turns on his side and moves closer to Malfoy, until their bodies are touching. He feels Malfoy go rigid but still lays his head on his shoulder. “I mean, we wake up like this every morning anyway,” he mumbles. “Might as well.”

Malfoy’s still rigid, and Harry wonders if he just made a ginormous mistake. He pulls away a little and tries to make out Malfoy’s face in the dark.

“Should I—”

Malfoy makes a weird sound. And then—

“Oh!”

Sparks. Again!

Huh.

Experimentally, Harry reaches out and carefully touches Malfoy’s shoulder.

“Whoa!”

More sparks.

OH!

Harry can feel himself blush as the pieces finally click together. Or do they? So Malfoy freaks out when Harry touches him. Unexpectedly. That only means he’s surprised. Right? Or… 

“Not a word, Potter,” Malfoy grumbles.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you were going to.”

“I wasn’t.” Harry bites his lip, mainly to keep himself from smiling. This doesn’t necessarily mean what he thinks it might mean. But it’s… endearing nonetheless.

He lowers his head to Malfoy’s shoulder again and slowly presses the length of his body against him. No sparks this time. Hmmm. Maybe because he knew it was coming? Or—

“Hic!”

“Ah! There they are!”

“What?” Malfoy shoves him away.

“Sorry, that’s not—” Harry tries to stifle his laugh. “I was just—”

“Hmpf.” 

He feels Malfoy shift. If he had to guess, he’d say Malfoy just turned his back to him. Well, Harry won’t make it that easy for him. Shrugging to himself, he throws his right arm over Malfoy and snuggles up to him. 

“Potter.” 

Harry smiles yet again. Malfoy sounds a little breathless.

“Go to sleep, Malfoy,” Harry murmurs into his neck. Malfoy is warm and soft and he smells of something Harry never knew he wanted. But this, what he’s doing right now, has nothing to do with what he wants. It’s about teasing Malfoy. Yeah. That’s all it is. It’s fine. This is fine.

* * *

“So, err—” Harry takes a big gulp of water. “Does the person you like, um—Do you think she,” he swallows, “or he,” he bites his lip, “would mind what we’re doing?”

“What are we doing?” Malfoy asks with an irritating air of nonchalance.

Harry tries very hard not to frown, tries very hard not to show that this question has been on his mind since he woke up and hasn’t left him alone since.

“You know,” he says lamely.

Malfoy seems to consider this for a moment. “I don’t think so,” he finally says.

“You don’t think so?”

“Honestly, they’re too dense to notice anything, really.”

“Dense,” Harry echoes, dumbfounded. “You, Draco Malfoy, like someone who’s dense?”

“Shocking, I know,” Malfoy drawls, to which Harry rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Malfoy continues. “They would never like me like that.” He’s trying to conceal it, but there’s so much longing and sadness in his voice. 

It makes Harry want to punch something. Who the fuck is this person who has Malfoy pining after them like a lost puppy? This is infuriating! Harry isn’t exactly sure why. But it is. So much so that he asks Malfoy to follow him outside. He needs to let off some steam. Now.

He makes a beeline for the logs piled up beside his cabin.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy asks.

“Just sit down and shut up,” Harry snaps. This is mental. Why is he even mad? Ugh! 

He strips off his shirt, knowing he’ll be sweaty within minutes, grabs the axe that’s leaning against the logs and ignores Malfoy’s stare.

Hagrid told him not to bother, since he can just use magic, but there’s something cathartic about chopping wood the Muggle way. Sure, it’s a lot less effective and he’s not very good at it, but he’s getting better. Merlin, the Daily Prophet would have a field day with this; Harry Potter with an axe, chopping wood shirtless. Good thing reporters are banned from the premises. 

He grunts, putting all his weight into bringing the axe down on the wood. This was an excellent idea. All this frustration needs an outlet. Desperately.

“So,” Malfoy starts. “I’m just supposed to sit here and watch you…. do this?”

“Summon a book or something,” Harry barks. 

Malfoy blinks at him but does end up summoning a book. He opens it wordlessly while Penny plays with his hair.

Satisfied, Harry puts his attention back on the logs. He peeks sideways every now and then, making sure Malfoy hasn’t moved and is still reading his book. Having someone this close while chopping wood isn’t ideal, but at least Malfoy is good at imitating ancient statues. 

After swiping off the sweat on his forehead, Harry grabs another log and is just about to bring himself into position when he hears a weird noise. It sounds like… a hiccup? 

Oh no!

Before Harry knows what’s happening, the log is suddenly snatched into the air and zooms into the Forest.

“What the—” Harry whirls around until he catches a very flustered looking Malfoy staring at him. “Did you—Was that you?”

Malfoy looks shocked as he hiccups again. 

“Malfoy!” Harry ducks as sparks explode around him and several logs fly through the air before they plop back on the ground, scattered around them. “What the fuck!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Malfoy snaps back.

“Are you telling me,” Harry squints at him, “that your magic is out of control?”

Malfoy says nothing and just stares at him. His eyes wander over Harry’s body, making the back of his neck tingle.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like—Like what?” Malfoy stammers. 

That, Harry thinks, is very unusual for him. Malfoy doesn’t stammer. 

Harry cocks his head. “You know, now that I think about it, you haven’t made one remark about how hideous I look without my shirt on.”

Something flashes across Malfoy’s face and he presses his lips into a very thin line. 

“Are you blushing?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter!”

“Ugh, whatever. I need a shower.” He gestures for Malfoy to get up, which he does. Silently. 

While Malfoy has his back turned to him, he peels off his trousers and pants before he steps into the shower. He makes an appreciative sound as the water washes away the sweat.

“Do you really have to make those noises?” Malfoy suddenly asks.

“Huh?”

“Shower in silence!”

“What’s got your wand in such a twist?”

“You,” Malfoy practically shouts.

Harry rolls his eyes and reaches for his shampoo. He closes his eyes as he massages it into his scalp and lets out a groan. Yeah, okay, maybe he did that on purpose. But Malfoy is just so bloody irritating. 

“Stop that!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry smirks. Seconds later, however, the smirk dies on his lips. Because then he hears the now familiar sound of Malfoy hiccuping. 

“Malfoy, are you—AAAAAAH! Motherf—” Harry jumps as the suddenly icy cold water hits his skin. “MALFOY!” Harry nearly tumbles out of the shower but catches himself at the last second. He quickly grabs a towel and starts drying himself with a scowl. “What the hell was that?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Malfoy snaps once more.

Harry catches a glimpse of his face, which is flushed. 

“Did you—” Harry bites the inside of his cheek. “You didn’t turn around, did you?”

The answer comes half a heartbeat too late.

“Of course not!”

“You did, didn’t you?” Harry says, leaning forward to examine Malfoy’s face more closely. It’s still blurry without his glasses.

“Why would I—Why would I want to—”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d like to know,” Harry murmurs. “Penny, did he turn around?”

“Her name is Penelope! And since when do Nifflers talk?”

“That’s hardly the point!”

“I didn’t turn around, you wanker! Nobody wants to look at your bony arse!”

“You’re one to talk!”

They glare at each other until Penny yanks at Malfoy’s hair so hard he yelps.

“Good job, Penny,” Harry chuckles.

“Her name is PENELOPE!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Harry says with a dismissive gesture. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.” He puts both of his hands on his hips, very aware of the fact he’s only wearing a towel, and draws himself up to his full height. Which, unfortunately, is still two centimetres shorter than Malfoy. “You saw mine, so it’s only fair you show me yours now.”

“Excuse me?” Malfoy shrieks, which, in turn, makes Penny shriek. “I’m not going to show you mine!”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Alright, how about a Seekers game, then? The winner gets to see the losers arse.”

Malfoy raises an eyebrow.

“Scared you’ll lose, Malfoy?”

“Oh, you’re on, Potter!”

An hour and a half later, Harry stomps back into the cabin with Malfoy at his heels.

“You cheated!”

“I won fair and square, Potter. I won despite a disadvantage! Or need I remind you that I was the one holding on to Penelope?”

Harry scowls at him, even though he does feel sorry for the little creature. She definitely didn’t seem to enjoy flying very much. 

“Don’t be such a sore loser, Potter.”

“Ugh!”

“Well,” Malfoy smirks. “Go on.”

Harry scowls at him. “You’ve already seen my arse. Twice now!”

“You made the rules, not me.”

Harry wants to slap that smug grin off Malfoy’s face so bad.

“Ugh. Fine!” Harry yanks his jumper over his head and gets to work on his trousers. He’s technically only obliged to show Malfoy his backside, but he figures he’d look pretty ridiculous with his arse bare and his jumper still on. He turns around and pushes the remaining clothes down.

“There, you happy now?” 

Heat rises to his cheeks the longer he stands there. He thought Malfoy would laugh, but he’s suspiciously quiet behind Harry. He peeks over his shoulders and sees Malfoy’s eyes glued to his… yeah. And—Oh! He’s blushing. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Harry mumbles as he hastily puts his clothes back on.

“Yes, um, that—that will suffice, I think.”

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen another bloke naked,” Harry snorts.

“Shut up, Potter,” comes the prompt retort.

Malfoy continues to be suspiciously quiet throughout the rest of the day, avoiding any eye-contact whatsoever. Even though it confuses Harry, it gives him the opportunity to do what he’s planned for several days now.

“Do you mind if we go to the Owlery before dinner? I need to send a letter.”

“Ah, finally decided to respond to Granger and Weasley?”

“Not exactly,” Harry admits. “But I will.” Eventually.

He makes sure Malfoy doesn’t see who the letter is addressed to and gives the barn owl a treat before he sends it off into the evening sky.

Penny seems to be offended by not getting a treat as well and starts squirming in Malfoy’s arms. 

“Don’t worry,” Harry says as they make their way to the Great Hall. “I’m sure there’ll be something for you at dinner.”

“Maybe we should take her on a few more walks,” Malfoy says. “She’s getting a little—”

“If you’re going to call her chubby, I swear I’m going to—”

“Harry! Draco!”

They both blink as they’re suddenly rounded up by Ginny and Luna, each grabbing their arms.

“What the—”

“This way, Harry,” Ginny mutters, dragging him into an empty classroom.

“But—”

“It’ll be fine as long as you both stay where we put you,” she says, closing the door behind him and casting a quick Muffliato.

“You—You know?” Harry asks, dumbstruck.

“Yeah, wasn’t hard to figure out. Malfoy’s been missing from class and the teachers gossip.”

“Oh.” Harry looks down at his shoes, somehow sensing an uncomfortable conversation coming his way.

“So,” Ginny says, crossing her arms. “You and Malfoy, huh?”

“What?”

“Bonded.”

“Oh, yeah. That.”

“You seem to be getting along quite well,” she says, her face unreadable. 

“Is that why you dragged me in here?”

Ginny makes a face but slowly nods, her expression turning a bit sheepish. “It’s been bugging me for a while now.”

“What?”

“You and Malfoy.”

“But—”

“You told me you couldn’t be with anyone right now.” Her tone isn’t exactly accusatory, but…

Harry stares at her, completely taken aback. “Yeah, and it’s still true.”

“Is it?”

“You think Malfoy and I—We’re not! We’re bonded! It was an accident!”

“You sure about that?”

“Of course! He wasn’t even supposed to be there when I cast the—”

“That’s not what I mean, Harry.”

He goes back to staring at her, his heart inexplicably beating faster. “Malfoy and I aren’t a thing, Ginny! That’s insane!”

“Is it? Because you look like you’re a couple.”

“What?”

“At least I can tell you want that.”

“Excuse me?” Why is it suddenly so hot in here?

“Please, Harry. It’s super obvious.”

“What?”

“The way you look at him!”

“How do I look at him?”

Ginny throws her hands in the air. “Like he’s the greatest invention since treacle tart!”

Harry opens his mouth. Then closes it again. Then opens it again. All that comes out is a weird, embarrassing sound.

“Yeah,” Ginny says. “Exactly.”

“But I don’t—”

“Are you trying to convince me or you?”

Harry hesitates, feeling caught. He doesn’t, though. He doesn’t feel that way about Malfoy. It’s all just been teasing and winding each other up and… and… 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” Ginny snorts.

Harry blinks at her.

“Merlin, Harry!”

Oh god. Is she right? Is Ginny right? Does he really want… Does he want… Malfoy?

“Harry.”

“Oh god,” he groans. “Oh GOD!” He hides his face behind his hands. “Fuck!”

“Oh, Harry. Now I almost feel bad. I thought—”

“Almost?” Harry asks, his lips stretching into a smile despite himself.

“Well, I mean, Malfoy is still an arsehole.”

“Yeah,” Harry says absentmindedly. “Oh god, do you think _he_ knows?”

“What, that you like him?” Ginny cocks her head. “He’d have to be pretty dumb not to notice.”

“But—But—” Oh god. “He said there’s someone he likes,” he says quietly.

“And… you’re worried it’s not you?”

“How could it be me?” Harry says heatedly. “It can’t be me! He hates me!”

Ginny considers him for a moment before she lets out a sigh. “Damn it, I wanted to yell at you for moving on so quickly, but—”

“Wait, what?” Harry can feel the colour draining from his face.

“As a joke,” she says. “Well, partly as a joke. I still can’t believe you’re into Malfoy of all people. What’s Ron take on this?”

“Err—”

“You haven’t told him?”

“Hey, up until five seconds ago, I had no idea there was something to tell!”

“Okay, fair enough,” she shrugs.

Acting on impulse, Harry takes her hand, relishing the familiar sensation of her skin against his. “You’re not really—I mean, um—”

“What?”

“You’re not really upset we’re not together anymore, are you?”

She lets out another sigh, which makes Harry dread her next words. But then, she squeezes his hand reassuringly. 

“I was at first,” she admits. “But not as much anymore.”

“Okay.” He had hoped she’d say she’s fine now.

“There’s someone I’ve been spending a lot of time with,” she continues hesitantly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. We’ll see.” She shakes her head, making her ponytail bounce. “So. You really sure about Malfoy?”

“Ugh. I’m not sure about anything right now,” he groans, pressing his palms against his eyes.

“You know,” Ginny says after a moment, “you look… happy when you’re with him.”

“I do?” Harry asks, surprised.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you like that in a while.”

“Oh.” Harry has absolutely no idea what to say to that.

“I can’t believe you fell for _him_ —”

“Hey, I—”

“—but if he makes you happy, I’m on board.”

Yet again, all Harry can do is stare at her. 

“I won’t talk to Ron for you, though.”

Unable to help himself, Harry bursts out laughing.

“But I think I would like to be there when you tell him,” she adds with a grin. “It’ll make for some nice additions to the family album.”

Harry lets his head fall back against the door as more laughter seizes him. “It probably won’t be pretty,” he snorts. After a moment, he squeezes Ginny’s hand again with a smile. “Thank you,” he whispers. “It really means—Thank you.”

She nods and lets herself be pulled into a hug.

“It’s okay, Harry,” she murmurs into his ear. 

* * *

With the newfound knowledge about his — ugh — feelings about Malfoy, it’s very, very, _very_ hard to concentrate on anything else.

“So,” he says, as casually as he possibly can while lying in bed next to the boy he apparently has a massive crush on. “What did you and Luna talk about?”

“The weather,” Malfoy promptly answers.

“Really?”

“Of course not, you dolt,” Malfoy says with a dramatic sigh.

“Okay. Then what did you really—”

“You.”

Oh.

“Oh?”

“She asked me how we were dealing with the bond and how we were getting along.”

“I… see.”

“I presume you and Weasley talked about the same.”

“Err—” Kinda? “Yeah.” Harry turns on his side, towards Malfoy, wedging his hand beneath his pillow. “And what did you tell her?”

“I told her we hadn’t murdered each other and that should count for something.”

“We’re getting along better than that,” Harry says with a frown. “Aren’t we?”

Malfoy is silent for a moment and Harry wishes he could hear Malfoy’s thoughts.

“I guess,” he finally whispers.

“I mean… you don’t hate me anymore… do you?”

Malfoy doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is strained. “It’s strange in a way,” he says quietly. “I’ve always wanted your attention.”

Harry stays perfectly still; this is… unexpected.

“But now that I have it,” Malfoy lets out a humourless little laugh, “I don’t really know what to do with it.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry realises Malfoy didn’t really answer his question. Well, he kind of did. But Harry is far too stunned to articulate himself. Does that mean… Does Malfoy… 

“I should have realised sooner that you’re too much of a softie to be a worthy nemesis.”

Harry closes his eyes. Nemesis. He hates that word. And he hates that Malfoy still thinks of him as one. That’s not what he—

“But I guess that’s not what we are anymore anyway,” Malfoy adds quietly.

Harry’s heart instantly does an elated somersault. “No, we’re not,” he whispers. Careful not to seem too eager, he slowly scoots over to Malfoy and presses his face against his shoulder.

“Is, um—Is this kind of attention alright?”

Malfoy lets out a laugh; it rumbles through his chest. “You’re not worried about the person I like having a problem with this?”

“Listen,” Harry says, propping himself up on his elbow. He can see Malfoy’s face, softly illuminated by the moonlight. “You said that person doesn’t notice much, which, I assume, means they haven’t noticed you. I mean, how blind do they have to be? How can anybody not notice you?”

Malfoy’s eyes widen, and Harry realises too late that his little speech might have been a little too passionate. 

“Err, I just—I just meant… that… um—”

“You’re a dickhead, you know that?”

“Hey, I—” Before Harry can give a proper retort, Malfoy yanks at his arm, pulling him down, so his face is squished against Malfoy’s chest. “Uh.”

“Just shut up, Potter,” Malfoy says, in a much softer tone than his words warrant, and slowly puts his arms around Harry.

O...kay? Harry isn’t really sure what’s happening, but he’s not complaining. He’s in Malfoy’s arms, he can feel his heartbeat against his cheek, he can smell his delicious scent… Oh boy. The state of his — ugh — feelings might be worse than he thought. Shit.

“Are you having some sort of crisis?” Malfoy asks quietly.

“Uh.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Just… let it happen.”

Harry frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t overthink it. Just—For the sake of breaking the bond.”

Oh. The bond. Right. Wait.

“Is that what this is?” Harry asks, his blood suddenly running cold. “You’re trying to, I don’t know, make us closer, so it’ll break the bond?”

As usual, Malfoy says nothing. It’s all the confirmation Harry needs.

“No, I don’t want that,” Harry says. He tries to squirm out of Malfoy’s embrace, but he isn’t letting him.

“Don’t be such a prat, Potter.”

“Oh, I’m the prat!” He shoves against Malfoy’s chest, but Malfoy’s arms are surprisingly strong.

“Stop fighting me, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Let go of me, Malfoy!”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

Harry freezes and his heart does another stupid somersault. “You… don’t want to out of spite? Or you don’t want to because… you genuinely want us to stay like this?”

He feels Malfoy shift before he clears his throat.

“You are the most idiotic idiot of all the idiots to have ever been an idiot on this planet.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, though.”

Malfoy sighs. “If you really knew me, you’d know which one it is.”

Harry’s stomach drops. So he’s doing it out of spite. He should have known. He should have _known_! But… The way Malfoy’s holding him, the way he feels against Harry, all soft and warm and… It’s hard not to read anything into it, not to feel secure and relaxed and… wanted. Cared for. 

Against his better judgement, Harry puts his arm around Malfoy’s midriff. His fingers twitch nervously and he realises he can feel Malfoy’s spine through his pyjamas. He traces it absentmindedly and only stops when he feels a featherlight touch on his cheek. He gulps when Malfoy brushes a few strands of hair out of his eyes and then lets his thumb glide down Harry’s cheek. Oh god. Oh god! Oh GOD! 

Malfoy lets out a sigh and pulls Harry closer to him, leaving him absolutely dumbstruck. What the fuck? He acts like he’s enjoying this. But he doesn’t. Harry knows he doesn’t. Which makes this so much harder. Because Harry is very much enjoying it, even though he doesn’t want to. But he can’t help it. How could he? Ugh. This really, really sucks.

* * *

This is insane, Harry keeps thinking. He is going insane. The only good thing about this current scenario is Penny playing with Malfoy’s hair again, so it’s not _that_ weird he keeps staring at it.

“So, err… You wanna go for a walk?”

“Not really,” Malfoy says without looking up from his book.

“Okay.” Harry bites the inside of his cheek. “Want to go flying?”

“Maybe later.”

Hmpf. How the hell is Harry supposed to accidentally bump into Malfoy, accidentally graze his hand with his or do bloody anything when Malfoy just wants to sit here and bloody read? This is bollocks. 

“I need a shower,” Harry announces, pushing out of his chair.

“Fine,” is all Malfoy says. He gets up with his eyes still glued to his stupid book. 

Harry scowls at him and very deliberately takes off his jumper right there in front of him. Nothing. Ugh! His fingers are just starting to work on the button of his trousers when he hears voices outside. They sound like they’re coming nearer.

“You have got to be kidding me!”

It sounds like a woman.

“This? This is where he lives now? This is a joke, right?”

Oh! Oh no! 

Harry frantically scrambles for his jumper, which he carelessly threw on the floor and accidentally knocks Malfoy’s book out of his hands in the process.

The door bursts open before Harry manages to put his jumper back on, which is very unfortunate. He must look ridiculous with his jumper stuck halfway down his head, his glasses askew and the button of his trousers undone. Oh god. And Malfoy is kneeling in front of him, having intended to pick up his book, but now frozen in place. Just perfect.

“Pansy?” Malfoy gasps. “Blaise?”

“Are we interrupting something?” she asks, one of her eyebrows raised in sceptical disbelief. Zabini is leaning against the doorframe, his expression a mixture of feign bewilderment and amusement.

“What—What are you doing here?” Malfoy stammers breathlessly.

“Oh, you know, I was in the neighbourhood,” she shrugs.

“What?”

“Merlin, you haven’t changed a bit. I’m here because of Potter’s letter, obviously.”

“Potter’s—”

There’s a very uncomfortable silence and Harry wishes he could just disappear.

“You sent her a letter?” Malfoy asks, turning to Harry.

“Err—”

“Why? And what in Merlin’s name did you tell her?”

“He told her,” Parkinson snaps, “that you’re withering away, pining for your long lost, beautiful best friend.”

Harry and Malfoy both gape at her.

“Hey, I’m his best friend as well,” Zabini chimes in.

“Alright, those might not have been his exact words, but you get the gist.”

“You _told_ her—”

“Well, somebody had to tell her,” Harry says defensively.

“You had no right to—”

“Damn it, Draco, you and your bloody pride,” Parkinson nearly shouts. “I wrote you so many times and you never answered!”

“I—I—”

“And then Potter tells me you miss me!”

Malfoy looks down at the floor. He looks ashamed.

“Why didn’t you tell me yourself?”

“I—” Malfoy makes a small gurgling sound. “I couldn’t.”

“Ugh!”

“I—I thought—” Malfoy blinks, his eyes glazing over. 

Harry wishes he could close the gap between them and pull him into a hug. Did he make a mistake? Shouldn’t he have contacted Parkinson after all?

“Merlin, Draco, you’re such a shithead,” Parkinson hisses. 

Harry nearly tells her off, but then she walks over to them and throws her arms around Malfoy’s neck. 

“I missed you too, you wanker.”

It takes a moment before Malfoy seems to register what’s happening. When he does, he clings to Parkinson for dear life. 

Harry shifts on his feet. Although this is the best outcome he could have hoped for, it is quite awkward to be standing mere centimetres from where those two are having such an intimate moment.

Parkinson seems to notice. “Don’t worry, Potter,” she snorts. “It’s not like that.”

“Huh?”

“Draco wouldn’t think about me like that even if I did have a penis.”

Um. What?

“At least not while you’re standing right there next to him.”

“Pansy,” Malfoy says warningly.

She rolls her eyes before releasing Draco and quickly brushing her perfectly manicured fingers on his cheek.

“All jokes aside, though,” she says, turning to Harry, “I am grateful. Thank you.”

“What?” That, Harry did not expect.

“Yeah, don’t get used to it.” She gives Malfoy a gentle peck on the cheek and then smacks him on the back of his head. “Tell me if you need space. Don’t just abandon me, okay?”

“Okay,” Malfoy says sheepishly.

“Alright, I’ll be off, then,” she announces. 

“How heartwarming you two can be,” Zabini says in a bored tone. “Tea?”

“More like firewhisky,” Parkinson groans. “And you two,” she says to Harry and Malfoy, looking over her shoulder, “please don’t finish what you started earlier. It looked very embarrassing.”

And with that, they’re gone.

“Well, um. That was… something,” Harry murmurs. He peeks at Malfoy from under his lashes, too nervous to look at him directly. He’s probably mad at him. He’ll probably yell, throw a fit. Maybe he’ll even try to hit Harry. Or—

Harry freezes when Malfoy turns towards him. Here we go. 

“Potter,” he croaks.

“I know, I know,” Harry says hastily. “I crossed a line, but you weren’t going to say anything and I could tell you wanted to talk to her and I just thought—”

“Please shut up.”

“Did you just say ‘please’?”

Malfoy snorts, and Harry thinks there might be a tiny tear running down his cheek, but he has no time to confirm because he’s suddenly yanked into a hug and Malfoy is pressing their bodies together and breathing into his hair and Harry is so stunned but his heart literally just skipped several beats and is this really happening?

“Oh!” Harry carefully puts his arms around Malfoy’s hips, hoping this isn’t just a dream. It does feel very real, though. Malfoy’s breath tingles on his ear, his body is soft and warm against Harry, and he wishes they could stay like this forever because when they’re like this, it’s so easy to pretend Malfoy feels the same way about him and it’s not just one-sided and Harry’s going to lose his fucking mind if something doesn’t happen within the next five seconds.

Patience has never been his strong suit.

He pulls away just a fraction, trying to get a good look at Malfoy’s face. It really was a tear. Careful not to spook him, Harry reaches up and brushes it away with his thumb.

“Potter,” Malfoy says quietly, and Harry’s heart nearly jumps out of his chest at the sound of his voice. 

God, he can’t stand this. He has to do something. Anything. Malfoy is so close, he looks so willing and it would be so easy to—

“Malfoy?”

“What?”

“Please don’t hit me.”

“Why would I—”

Harry leans forward, feeling a zing go through him when his nose touches Malfoy’s. He hesitates, waits for Malfoy to push him away or take a step back or do anything that tells Harry he doesn’t want this, but he’s staying perfectly still, maybe he’s even holding his breath, and Harry wants to scream because he can hear his erratic pulse rushing in his ears and his head is going to explode and he really can’t stand this and he just… he has to do this.

Curling his fingers around the back of Malfoy’s neck, he leans in and closes his eyes. Oh god. Malfoy’s lips are so soft. He presses their bodies closer together, still waiting for Malfoy to push him away; instead, Malfoy leans into the kiss as well and his hands are suddenly in Harry’s hair and _oh god_ the way his lips are sliding over Harry’s, the gentle tug on his hair, the taste of Malfoy’s tongue. It’s almost too much. It’s only then Harry realises Malfoy is actually kissing him back. _He’s kissing him back!_ And he’s making these endearing noises that have Harry’s head spinning and—Wait, what’s _that_ noise?

Begrudgingly, Harry pulls back and quickly scans the room. There, beside the sink, is Penny, bouncing on some plates.

“Stop it, Penny! They’ll break and then you—” He lets out a little gasp. “Hold on, what are you doing over there? How can you be—Oh!” His eyes dart back to Malfoy. “Did we do it?”

“What?” Malfoy blinks at him; he looks a little dazed. 

Harry would like nothing more than to grab him and kiss him again. It takes a lot of restraint to take a step back and then another… and another.

“Oh my god, we did it!” He punches the air and smiles. “We broke the bond!”

“Oh.” Malfoy furrows his brows. Why does he look so gobsmacked? “Is that why you kissed me?”

Harry pauses. “What?”

“You know what, don’t answer that.”

“Malfoy.” Harry takes a step back towards him. “We’re finally free!”

“Congratulations,” Malfoy says coolly. 

“Aren’t you glad?”

“Immensely.”

He doesn’t sound like it, though.

“What’s wrong? I thought—”

“You probably thought wrong,” Malfoy says, his face unreadable. 

What the fuck just happened?

“Hey, I—” He reaches out for Malfoy but freezes midway when Malfoy glares at him.

“Now that I’m _free_ ,” he snarls, “I shall go back to the castle.”

Oh. Right. Harry didn’t think about that. He doesn’t want that. But if Malfoy doesn’t want to stay here… 

“Um, you could stay,” Harry mumbles, despite himself.

Malfoy looks at him and an almost torn expression flickers across his face. “I thought you like being on your own.”

“I do,” Harry says quietly.

“Very well, then,” Malfoy says before he turns on his heels.

Harry watches him storm out of the cabin, his heart squeezing uncomfortably.

“But I like being with you more,” he whispers to no one.

* * *

“What do you think, Penny?” Harry says with his chin on the table, watching her eat some blueberries. “Should I go talk to him?”

It’s been three days. Three miserable, horrible and lonely days. Well, they would have been much lonelier if Penny had decided to abandon him as well. But, curiously enough, she doesn’t seem to have the urge to flee the scene like Malfoy. She usually goes back to her little burrow to sleep, but she comes back to Harry every morning, accepting his food and making happy squeaking noises while playing with his cutlery.

“I should go up there, shouldn’t I?”

“Harry, are yeh in there?”

“Oh, Hagrid!”

Harry jumps up and darts to the door.

“Yeh look a lil pale. Are yeh alright?”

Harry bites his lip, deliberating if he should lie. He doesn’t feel like hiding it, though. “I’m not,” he sighs. “I’m working on it.”

Hagrid slowly nods. “Missin’ Malfoy, are yeh?”

“Uh—”

“Misses yeh too, the little shit, if yeh ask me.”

“Does everyone know?” Harry asks, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

“Only those who have eyes,” Hagrid chuckles with a wink.

“Oh god.” Can it get any more embarrassing?

“Come on, the Bowtruckles will be happy to see yeh.”

Being able to help Hagrid again is nice and it definitely takes his mind off of Malfoy. For a little while. By the time he enters the Great Hall for lunch, however, everything goes to shit. Not only because he sees Malfoy sulking at the Slytherin table, but because Luna won’t stop talking about him.

“He’s been very sad.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Harry murmurs, ignoring his roast.

“He’s barely eaten anything.”

“Hmm-hmm.”

“I really think you should apologise to him, Harry.”

“I—What? Why should I apologise? He’s the one who stormed off!”

“Because he’s insecure,” Luna says.

“Insecure?”

She nods. “He’s never been great at dealing with his feelings.”

“And I’m an expert?” Harry snorts.

“Well, you fell in love with each other, so—”

Harry’s fork clatters onto the table. “Come again?” 

Luna just blinks at him.

“Is he still denying it?” Ginny asks as she sits down beside Luna.

“I think I might have broken him,” Luna whispers to her.

“I—I—”

“See?”

“Damn it, this is insane,” Harry groans. He cranes his neck to get another look at Malfoy, who is poking at his mashed potatoes listlessly. He looks like Harry feels. He’s been wracking his brain, trying to understand what he could have done wrong that sent Malfoy running for the hills. It was only last night he started to put the pieces together. He had been so caught up in his own crisis, he never stopped to think that Malfoy might be having one as well. At least, that’s what Harry suspects. 

“You really think I should apologise?” Harry asks. “Even though it wasn’t my fault?”

“Are you sure it wasn’t your fault?” Ginny asks. “I have no idea what happened, but the chances of you—”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Harry snaps, to which Ginny starts to laugh. “Alright, fine, whatever. Can I borrow some parchment? And a quill? And some ink?”

“You want one of my kidneys, too?” Ginny snorts as she rummages through her bag.

Harry gives her a lopsided grin before he starts scribbling down a quick note.

“Penny,” he says, rudely interrupting her from taking a bite of steamed pumpkin. “Can you take this over to Malfoy?”

She squeaks at him. 

“Can she even understand you?” Ginny asks.

“I think she can,” Harry murmurs. He offers her the little note and watches as she carefully sniffs at it. “Yes. Can you take it to him? Please?”

She squeaks again, but, to Harry’s excitement, she takes the note, stuffs it into her little pouch and zooms off. He watches, heart pounding up to his throat, as Penny crawls onto Malfoy’s head and he finally jumps out of his stupor. He squints, trying to make out what Malfoy is saying to her, but it’s no use. It doesn’t matter anyway. Penny, the clever little thing, reaches into her pouch and throws the note in Malfoy’s face. He seems to be telling her off, but she’s already on her way back to Harry.

“Who’s a good Niffler! Yes, you’re a good Niffler,” Harry croons at her and gives her another piece of pumpkin. He looks back at Malfoy, who is frowning at the note.

“Did you seriously just apologise via Niffler?” Ginny asks.

“Please,” Harry snorts. “I have much more class than that!”

“Oh Merlin! You even sound like him,” Ginny groans.

On the way down to his cabin, he makes sure to find Hagrid and tell him to maybe stay clear of his house for the night. The last thing Harry needs are witnesses. 

Waiting for nighttime to come seems endless, but when it’s finally dark outside, Harry rushes out and gets himself into position. Okay. Now Malfoy can come. If he comes. Harry really hopes he does.

As if on cue, Harry hears something rustle behind him, making his heart pound.

“Potter?”

Thank god!

“What in Merlin’s name—Why are you naked?”

“Okay. So,” Harry says, putting his hands on his hips and only feeling mildly ridiculous about talking to Malfoy with his back turned to him. “I figured you must have felt pretty humiliated after, um, after we kissed. Even though it was just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” Malfoy echoes.

“Yes. Because I didn’t do it to break the bond.”

Malfoy says nothing to that.

“But I was pretty sure you wouldn’t believe me if I just told you. So…” Screwing his eyes shut, as though that makes it any less embarrassing, he starts swinging his hips from side to side.

“Potter,” Malfoy splutters. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m trying to apologise here!”

“How is that an apology?”

“I’m humiliating myself. Now we’re even.”

“Even,” Malfoy snorts. That little noise sounds so derisive, it makes Harry grind his teeth.

“Listen,” he barks, grabbing his shirt and his trousers and holding them in front of him before he turns around to face Malfoy. “I don’t think a simple kiss would have broken the bond. It has to mean something.”

Malfoy still looks sceptical.

“Don’t you agree?” He takes a hesitant step forward. “Besides, I just danced for you, completely naked. Do you think I would do that if I didn’t—if I didn’t—” He swallows. And waits. For Malfoy to do something. Anything.

But he just stands there. Looking torn.

Harry bites the inside of his cheek, deliberating only for a moment. In an attempt to lift the mood, he swings his hips again, making sure his crotch is sufficiently covered.

Malfoy lets out a seemingly involuntary laugh; the sound pulls at Harry’s heartstrings in the best way.

“So you believe me?” he murmurs as he moves closer.

“I don’t know,” Malfoy sighs.

“Will you let me prove it to you?”

They stare at each other, the air almost crackling around them. Without thinking too much about it, Harry reaches out and gently puts his hand on Malfoy’s cheek. Only mere seconds later, Malfoy’s eyes widen. And then he hiccups.

“Oh!” Harry pulls back, the sting of the sparks Malfoy just produced zapping through him. 

“Sorry,” Malfoy mumbles, noticeably more pink in the face. 

“It’s alright,” Harry shrugs. “I’ll just assume this is your way of telling me I’m hot.”

“You’re such a little shit,” Malfoy laughs.

“That’s my line,” Harry grins. 

He steps closer once more, until their bodies are pressed against each other and their foreheads are touching. 

“I really, really like you,” he murmurs, slightly tilting his head.

“Merlin, Potter, you have no idea.”

And then Malfoy is kissing him with his soft lips and his hands around Harry’s neck and the whole world starts spinning around them and Harry thinks they might be flying and then Malfoy’s hands are on his bare back and _oh god_ why didn’t they do this so much sooner?

“You dropped your shirt, Potter,” Malfoy whispers with a hint of amusement.

Harry pulls back a little and wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ll drop everything now if you will, too.”

“Hmmm. Maybe once we’re inside and Penelope isn’t watching.”

Harry looks down to find Penny sitting at their feet, blinking up at them curiously.

“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” Harry laughs and leans in again, because now he doesn’t have to hesitate and he can just kiss that beautiful mouth and throw his arms around this beautiful boy who hiccups when he’s nervous and makes sparks dance around them because, apparently, he’s just as much a fool for Harry as Harry is for him.

* * *

_Dear Harry,  
_ _Again, I am so so sorry for barging in like that! We will definitely never ever come by unannounced again. Ever. And please don’t worry about Ron. It took a while until he stopped screaming, but I got him to calm down eventually. We would love to have you and Malfoy over for dinner sometime. Preferably fully clothed. Just saying. Please tell Malfoy that I very much appreciated his letter. I will tell him in person, but do let him know that I accept his apology and that I’m glad you found someone who cares so much for you. And vice versa.  
_ _Alright, let me know when you’re free.  
_ _Lots of love,  
_ _Hermione_

  
  
  
  
  


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**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [aceveria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceveria/pseuds/aceveria) Log in to view. 




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